Potter vs Malfoy: War's End
by Jedi Tess of Gryffindor
Summary: 10 January: Chapter 10 edited and updated! Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy need near death experiences to finally reach a truce. That, and strongminded women. pre OotP, ships: Draco and Ginny, Harry and girl!Blaise, COMPLETE
1. In Which It Ends

Potter vs. Malfoy: War's End

By Jedi Tess and Lee Velviet

Summary: Draco, Ginny, Harry, female!Blaise, a rip in time, and a bizarre collision with their own children brew a reluctant friendship between the forever-feuding Malfoys and Potters (well, two of them, anyway) and two unlikely sidekicks.

Pairings: Draco/Ginny (um, DUH!), Harry/ female!Blaise (when originally writing this, no one knew Blaise's gender for sure – I know _he's_ male), hints of Ron/Hermoine.

**NEW** A/N: Heya! This is a _new_! author's note with a bit of an FYI for you all. **Lee Velviet** is (sob) no longer co-authoring this story (some of you seemed unclear about this, so here I am, clearing it up!). Let's all take a moment and mourn . . . Sigh Anyway, I, J.T., am ALL BY MY-SEEEEEELF! Actually, that's a lie – I have a fantastic new quasi-beta, **XX**, who is officially being promoted to full beta _right now_ because she's gone above and beyond the call of beta-ing duty many, many time (bless her). Good on you, **XX**! Moving on. This chapter has been _heavily_ edited in several ways, as will all chappies of this fic. _Massive_ grammatical/spelling/punctuation corrections, as well as plot hole filling and a bit of content, are being enacted as I write! I think it's worth rereading because the improvements are vast!

Anyway, enjoy and kudos!

J.T.

**PvsM**

"Come off it, Potter. Do I look stupid enough to believe that rubbish?" Hayden Malfoy glared down at the seventh year in front of him.

Tristan Potter made a dramatic show of pushing her round-framed spectacles onto her head and squinting her bright green eyes at him.

Hayden ground his teeth as several of the Slytherin girls standing around behind her sniggered into their hands. After a moment, Tristy lowered her glasses back onto her small nose and ran a hand through her long, untidy black hair. "You want me answer that?" she asked at last, quirking a dark eyebrow at him.

Hayden's upper lip curl. Tristy had always known just what to say to get under his skin – even when they were little kids it had been an unconscious knack of hers. It was no wonder that he'd eventually learnt to loathe her. His hands fist at his sides as he fought the urge to wrap them around her scrawny neck.

She sneered at him, egging him on. "Oh, Malfoy, kneazle got your tongue? Seems your only passable weapon since we all know you can't use your wand worth a damn." Her friends gasped, as though they didn't hear her tear into people daily.

"Too bad _you'll _never know, Potter," he threw back, smirking and running his tongue gently across his teeth his teeth. Dorian had once done a careful study and discovered this particular move could paraylze girls at a distance of twenty paces. Sure enough, every one of Tristy's friends went a bit cross-eyed. Tristan didn't look a bit impressed - in fact, she was the only girl at Hogwarts who would willingly rip his tongue out, rather than open her mouth.

She rolled her eyes, grabbed a fistful of his robes, and frog-marched him out of earshot of her leering housemates.

"That's right, Tris, there's a broom cupboard at the other end of the hall. We've still got ten minutes before double Potions," Amber Higgs called after them. The other girls tittered.

"Tristy likes 'em best when they put up a bit of a fight, Malfoy," Hilary Baddock added with a suggestive hitch of her penciled-on eyebrow.

Hayden saw Tristy's jaw tense. Other than that she gave no sign that she heard or cared what her housemates were saying. Leaning toward him so that she was speaking into his ear, she whispered, "Meet me outside Snape's classroom before Potions, Malfoy. It's really important and - look, just be there, right?" She turned away and stalked away with her entourage of friends.

Hayden could only gaze after her suspiciously as she disappeared, her long black hair drifting in a soft cloud behind her. What was she playing at?

A large, heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder, but he continued to watch after Tristy, his frown deepening.

"I hate to say it - again and again – but you've got it so bad for that girl," a deep voice said from behind him.

Hayden's violent expression relaxed into one of mild annoyance. "Are you mad? I can't bloody stand her." His lip curled at the idea.

Dorian Weasley stepped around in front of him and grinned down from his superior height. He crossed his arms and flexed his arms, raising his eyebrows. Hayden narrowed his eyes as he was forced to tilt his head back slightly to look up at Dorian. In their sixth year, they'd both been lanky and the same height. Somehow, during the summer before their seventh year, Dorian had shot up a full eight centimeters and, with little or no effort, developed several additional pounds of lean, solid muscle.

"Come on, mate," Dorian wheedled. "You know you want to shag her – I still say you take advantage of the summer hols and make the beast with two backs next time you're at Uncle Harry's manor." Dorian grinned even wider, his blue eyes twinkling, deep dimples appearing in his freckled cheeks. "Reckon you just need to relieve the tension."

Hayden's eyebrows drew together in disgust. "No chance. Girl's a bleeding nuisance. That ratty hair – does she ever brush it? Looks like a bloody sheep. And those specs make her look like an absolute prat!"

But Dorian was only shaking his head, red fringe falling into his dancing eyes. "Give over. Can't you see the two of you together? That'd be a lark – a Slytherin and a Gryffindor hooking up. Don't reckon it's happened since your parents got together."

"Yeah, and clearly, house rivalry hasn't exactly been affected by the 'power of love', has it?"

Dorian grinned again. "Real shame, too. Amber Higgs, mate. What an eyeful!"

"_Amber Higgs_? You're disgusting, you know that?" Hayden said, still mildly annoyed. Dorian was his best mate, but sometimes his libido was too much, even for Hayden. Amber Higgs – honestly! "Anyway, I thought we were discussing Potter."

"Right – sorry to tear you away from your favorite subject," his friend chortled. Ignoring Hayden's deepening scowl, he went on. "Like I was saying, Tristy's got every bloke in this school drooling in his pudding, even with those specs and the mad scientist hair. She's definitely shaggable. Hell, I even broke down and gave her my best shot over Christmas when she and Uncle Harry came to the Hollow." His eyes glazed over, even as his best friend's eyes widened in horror. "Caught her on the stairs and snogged her like crazy. You know she actually blushed? I bet you anything she's still a virgin."

"Yeah - pure as driven snow," Hayden muttered, feeling a little ill. "Especially with all those pro Quidditch players around the manor when her daddy's not home. Go on, mate – you've seen the leather she swans round in."

Dorian wasn't listening. His eyes were still far away, and he was looking rather rueful. "Never in my life have I had a girl tell me my kiss felt 'brotherly.'"

Hayden made a sound of revulsion. "Well, you'veknown her practically since birth, you ill-mannered clod. What did you think she was going to say? We're all practically siblings! You can't just walk up and plant one on her. Even the likes of Tristan Potter take exception to that."

"Why?" Dorian said, shrugging. "If _I _were her, I'd be thrilled to be snogged by me."

They glanced at each other. Hayden's lip twitched and Dorian laughed. "I think you've been spending too much time with Uncle Harry's godfather," Hayden said.

"Hey, Sirius knows what he's about!"

"How many women stay with Uncle Sirius for more than a month, then?"

Dorian looked confused. "Since when do we want 'em to stay?"

Hayden shook his head again and flicked imaginary dust off his gleaming prefect's badge pinned above the Gryffindor patch on his expensive black robes. "Come on – we're going to be late for double Potions."

"Perish the thought," Dorian mumbled as he reluctantly fell into step beside his friend.

**PvsM**

Hayden waved Dorian when they reached the Potions classroom in the dungeons. Tristan was already waiting outside the door, foot tapping and arms crossed in an attitude that suggested he was the worst sort of time-waster. Dorian grinned at her as he passed her on his way in to class. Tristan gave him a small smile in return, rolling her eyes when he made loud kissing noises at her.

Schooling his features into a cool, careless expression, Hayden joined Tristan by the door, noticing the lines of strain in her pale features. When he'd received her owl yesterday, he'd assumed she'd been exaggerating. He watched her catch one of her full lips between her teeth. Her wide, troubled green eyes were fixed on the opposite wall, not noticing the other students streaming passed them into Snape's class.

Dorian was right about one thing. Tristan was shag-able in the extreme.

Hayden bit the inside of his cheek to clear his head. The last of the other students disappeared into class and Hayden turned to face his godsister.

"What's so sodding important, Potter?"

**PvsM**

Unable to stand the suspense, and Snape being handily tardy to class that day, Dorian rose from his seat and crept to the door. He cracked it open and peered out into the hallway.

To his disappointment, but not surprise, they were doing what they did best: arguing.

As usual.

Dorian scowled at their stubborn, mutual refusal to get with the baby-making already. He didn't know why they wouldn't just get a move on. Well, he did, but it was so petty, so stupid that he really couldn't stand it.

_"Dad? Hey, Dad's home!" _

_Hayden and Dorian had been jumping on Hayden's new bed, while Tristy sprawled across the floor with her new training broom and an "I Can Read" book entitled, _The Young Quidditch Star: A Guide to Not Doing Anything a Stupid Little Kid Might Normally Do._ Uncle Harry was reluctant to get it, but Tristy's nose had been buried in it since they'd left Quality Quidditch Supplies and Dorian assumed this meant that she could read it. _

_However, at Hayden's exclamation, she jumped to her feet._

_"Uncle Draco!" She beamed and clapped her little hands, her green eyes bright and eager behind the specs dropping off her nose.  
_

_"Don't __do__ that." Hayden rolled his eyes, jumped into the air, and landed on the floor beside her. "That's my dad, Tris!"_

_"So? He's my godfather and I think he's perfect!" she retorted, closing her book with care and setting it on the nightstand._

_"Can we go?" Dorian demanded, frowning impatiently at them. Tristy and Hayden grinned sheepishly at him, and each of the boys grabbed one of Tristy's hands. Tristy always wanted to be in the middle and Dorian's cousin Andy had once said boys _didn't_ hold hands so Tristy in the middle was fine by him.__  
_

_They dashed down the long corridors of Red's Park, down a winding staircase, and into the entrance hall, where Draco was just kissing his wife hello._

_"Disgusting! Make it stop!" Hayden wailed, burying his face in Dorian's sleeve. Tristy beamed and dropped Hayden and Dorian's hands.  
_

_"Hi, Uncle Draco," she said happily, dashing over and flinging her short arms around his middle (Aunt Ginny only just moving away in time to avoid being sandwiched). _

_"Sweetheart," he returned simply, lifting the tiny girl into his arms._

_"Hey, no fair!" Hayden cried, hurrying over and giving Tristy's dangling foot a solid yank. "He's my dad!"_

_"Steady on, mate," his father chided mildly, setting Tristy back down and lifting a pale brow at his indignant heir. _

_Tristy's big eyes were filling with tears behind her glasses._

_"That was mean," she sniffled, glaring angrily at him._

_"It was mean to try and steal my dad," Hayden retorted. Dorian remembered thinking, even at the time, how horribly silly the whole argument was._

_"I wasn't trying to steal him!" Tristy wailed, stomping her foot. All at once, she flung herself at Hayden, arms around his neck. "I'm sorry, Den. Didn't mean to do anything wrong."_

_Hayden returned the hug readily, patting her on the head. _

_" 's okay," he said stoutly, his expression sober. "I forgive you." He considered. "And since you've only got one parent and I have two, I guess I'd better share." He beamed, throwing his arm wide as if conferring a huge favor. "You can hug my dad again, if you want." Dorian noticed Aunt Gin rolling her eyes._

_It always amused Dorian that Hayden would forgive Tristy anything under the sun if she asked him to._

Though a small smile played over his lips at the memory, Dorian felt a familiar frustration at his friends. Hayden's stubborn insistence that nothing was ever his fault as indulged by Tristan's always being the one to apologize was what had led to the last straw. Once, Dorian had had two best friends who he did everything with. Now ...

_When it came time for the three of them to begin at Hogwarts, no one had been able to separate them. They'd anticipated going since Cedric had started. He sent long letters home to Tristan about how much fun he was having. They did all their shopping and planning together. Uncle Harry joked that they'd better just spend the summer together, lest they use up all the parchment in England. _

_It was at Uncle Harry's mansion that they had vowed to be in Gryffindor together. _

_"We have to swear," Hayden said, glaring threateningly at the other two._

_"But it's not our choice, Den," Tristy pointed out. "Suppose that the Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin, 'cause your dad was there?"_

_"What if it put __you__ there?" Hayden retorted heatedly. "Your mum was –" Dorian kicked him very hard in the shin to keep him from blundering on about Tristy's mother and making her upset. Hayden looked sheepish, then finished lamely with, "Well, you're just as likely to end up there as_ _I__ am."_

_"I suppose," she admitted, probably to avoid an argument. "Fine, let's promise."_

_They shook on it and had all felt better for sealing their own fates._

_All through the train ride they had discussed Quidditch, houses, and Uncle Draco's friend Professor Snape (whom Tristy said her father often called a "slimy git")._

_Dorian remembered how nervous they'd been when they'd first seen the Great Hall and how Tristy nearly fainted at the sight of the Sorting Hat. Hayden was called up for sorting first._

_"Malfoy, Hayden," Professor McGonagall read from her parchment. Dorian patted him reassuringly on the back and Tristy hugged his arm_.

_"Go get 'em, Den," she whispered._

_And he had, though it had been a near miss. He sat up there a whole minute before the hat finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"_

_When McGonagall called, "Potter, Tristan," Tristy's entire form frozen up._

_"Go, Tris!" Dorian actually had to shove her toward the stool. She dragged her feet getting there, though no one in the watching crowd except Hayden and Dorian noticed, as they were too busy muttering about Harry Potter's daughter._

_The real shocker, Dorian realized months later, was that the hat had barely been on her head ten seconds before it hollered, "SLYTHERIN!"_

_The entire hall went deadly quiet. Tristan's face was rigid, her eyes unfocused. Then it collapsed. She didn't burst into tears or beg to be switched, but her expression was so sad, so disappointed that Dorian wanted to run forward and hug her._

_He, of course, was also sorted into Gryffindor (he _was_ a Weasley through and through, after all)._

_It wasn't until the next day that they saw Tristy again. Hayden had been unnaturally quiet about the whole thing and that worried Dorian. Silence meant something big, in Hayden speak._

_Dorian was just digging his fork into his pancakes when he felt a hand on his shoulder._

_"Ian." Tristy's voice was timid, and still painfully sad. Her eyes were red, and he thought he could see the trails of tears that couldn't be more than an hour old._

_"Hi, Tris." He grinned reassuringly up at her. Hayden, to both their surprise, pretended not to hear the exchange._

_"Hi, Den," Tristy tried. No response. "Er – could I speak to both of you – outside, maybe?"_

_Dorian nodded and pulled Hayden up with him._

_Out in the deserted entrance hall, Tristy turned to both of them._

_"Are you okay?" Dorian asked. Tristy broke down instantly._

_"Of course not!" she cried, fresh tears in her eyes. "The stupid hat was wrong!"_

_"What did it say to you?" Dorian asked._

_"It told me I was perfect for Gryffindor," she sobbed, tears dribbling down her front._

_"So why –?"_

_"'Cause it said things would be too easy for me there," she sniffled miserably. "Said I'd be good for Slytherin, like my – like other people in my family." She then noticed Hayden's dead expression._

_"Please say something, Den," she begged._

_"You lied," he said stonily._

_"What?"_

_"You promised!" he cried. "You promised you'd be in Gryffindor with us!"_

_"It's not my fault!" she said desperately. "What was I supposed to do? I begged the hat to reconsider. I told it it had made a mistake – it wouldn't take it back! I swear!"_

_"You swore you'd be in Gryffindor with us, too – but then, Slytherins are usually lying, cheating scum." Hayden's harsh words surprised Dorian. Usually, he didn't resort to name-calling. This probably meant he was waiting for her to beg for forgiveness. He had another thing coming._

_Tristy's small hand whipped __out of nowhere, cracking against his pale face with a sound like a shot._

_"That was the most horrible thing I've ever heard, you selfish beast!" she hollered, cheeks flushed and eyes still streaming. "How do you think I feel? A Potter in stinking Slytherin! You have no idea the teasing and stuff that I had to put up with yesterday from my own housemates. I could have peeled Amber Higgs' sneer off with my fingernails! I have no friends in my own house, or apparently anywhere else!" And she turned and stalked away, head held high._

_"She hit me!" Hayden said in wonder. _

_"You deserved it," Dorian stated flatly. "That lying, cheating scum bit was a low blow."_

Dorian snorted. He had gone after Tristan himself and assured her that he was still her friend and they could still hang out, but things changed as they got older. He and Tristan remained friends, but Dorian's admittedly stupid attempt at a snog summer coupled with the distance of their houses made it tenuous, at best.

And, however Dorian looked at it, it really was Hayden's fault. Speaking of . . .

He was about to shout some rude advice to his friend when he saw Tristan dig something small, golden, and sparkling on a chain from beneath her robes. Frowning, Dorian watched, foreboding prickling the hairs on the back of his neck.

Hayden looked shocked, his grey eyes wide. He said something to Tristan and actually took a step back. Tristan grabbed the front of his robes and hauled him back, snarling something Dorian couldn't quite hear. Hayden relaxed in her grip, still staring at the little golden object in her hand. Finally, he gave a tight nod, and Tristan looped the long gold chain around his neck as well. The action brought the two even closer together, and Dorian watched them tense at each other's nearness. Tristan dropped her eyes, and began doing something with the object on the chain. Dorian strained to see, but he was too far away to be able to tell –

Suddenly, the two figures, shadowed in the dim light of the dungeon corridor, vanished.

Feeling the blood drain from his face, Dorian ran out into the hall, panicked, and skidded to a stop right where his two best friends had been standing.

But they were gone without a trace . . .

_**TBC**_


	2. In Which Harry Sneaks Around

**NEW _NEW _a/n: **Pant pant . . . have corrected ALL words-joined-together issues. SO SORRY it took so long. Loves, J.T.

**NEW A/N: **The updated, new and improved, chapter 1. Hopefully you recognize enough improvements here to make it worth the reread. Lots of changes, subtle hints that will probably make more sense once the last chapter (which is close to completion now!!) is up. ****

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good – er, I mean, we own nothing. Yeah...**  
**

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD**

"Oh, sod off, Potter – you think I'm any happier about this than you are? I'm not exactly jumping at the chance to spend time with your important little self."

"At least you're Snape's little brown-noser," Harry Potter snapped, not even bothering to look at the Slytherin. He was afraid he might be overpowered by the desire to plant his fist in the Slytherin's aristocratic nose if he caught even a glimpse of the trademark smirk. "He'll probably let you sit and watch me gut things."

"Probably," Draco Malfoy agreed with a dry laugh. "You'd think McGonagall would have sense enough to send us off to bedpan duty."

"Don't look at me," Harry snorted. "She's got the wit of a hippogriff - large and ravenous if provoked." Finally, Harry turned a glance on Malfoy. "But then, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"That went out with the ferret jokes, Potter." Though the taller boy didn't bat an eyelash, Harry saw a muscle in his jaw twitch and congratulated himself on ticking him off a bit.

"I didn't find the whole thing particularly amusing, either," Harry went on conversationally. "You just did it to get Hagrid fired - too bad you failed miserably."

"Any chance you could keep your mouth shut, Potter?" Malfoy snapped, his smirk transforming smoothly into a nasty scowl. "Light conversation with you is about as appealing as snogging Hannah Abbot."

"Tried that, have you?" Harry bit back another snort. Recent years had taught him how to push Malfoy's buttons to the point of being in physical danger. Not that that bothered him, really. He'd had enough adventure in his life to see messing with Draco Malfoy as child's play.

"Hardly," Malfoy said loftily, his face becoming impassive. "Bigger fish to fry, and all that."

Harry rolled his eyes as they stepped into the entrance hall. It was dark, as they were out past curfew, and the moon shown eerily through the windows above the front doors.

"You know, there's more to life than a good shag," Harry said, feeling slightly irritated. Not because he lacked beautiful girls climbing all over him, but because he had never really let any of them get that close.

"You sound frustrated in the worst way, Potter." Harry could hear the sneer on his face. "Hacked off about losing to a Malfoy, I expec -" He broke off, as, with a very un-Malfoy-like clumsiness, he tripped over the floor and nearly went sprawling.

"Walk much?" Harry smirked.

"Stuff it!" Malfoy spat. "There's something here."

He bent down and squinted around. Harry was about to suggest that perhaps Malfoy was just turning into an uncoordinated oaf, when Malfoy inhaled sharply.

"What?" Harry demanded, bending down beside him.

"Fix your specs, Potter," Malfoy murmured, his drawl all but gone. His voice was deadly serious. "That was no loose stone I tripped over. It's a body."

"That's not funny," Harry started, but paused when his hand came to rest on something cold. Cold and clammy. Running his fingers across it, he felt the unmistakable smoothness of flesh. A cheek and a nose made themselves visible in his mind's eye.

"Merlin!" Harry breathed, his hands resting on the lips. No breath warmed his fingers. He yanked out his wand.

"Lumos," he said. In the dim light cast by his wand, he could see two bodies. They lay slumped on the cold stone floor. Their lifeless eyes were wide with surprise. Their faces were pale, and their skin icy cold.

The boy, looking about their age, seemed very familiar to Harry. He couldn't identify the face, but he felt as if he knew him somehow. The sight of the girl, who seemed to be the same age as the boy, sent an unexpected jolt through Harry. Something about her seemed very familiar. His chest tightened painfully in recognition; yet he was quite sure he had never seen her before.

Almost unnecessarily, Harry reached for her wrist. No pulse throbbed beneath his shaking fingers. Not that he had expected one.

"Dead," Malfoy muttered faintly, his voice a bit higher than usual. Harry lifted his eyes from the girl to glance at Malfoy. His expression was rigidly controlled, though in the wandlight he looked considerably paler, and he was gazing down at the boy. "Probably killed a couple of hours ago." His long fingers reached out and brushed closed the boy's stormy gray eyes.

"He looks familiar." Harry was thinking out loud. His eyes moved from Malfoy's stony expression to the boy.

"Shut up, Potter the Slytherin hissed with astonishing harshness. Harry looked up at him from where he had been shutting the girl's bright green eyes.

"What's up with you?" Harry asked. Sure this bothered him, too, and his reaction to the sight of the girl startled him, but Malfoy looked - well, he looked hurt, as though he were deeply moved by the bodies.

And nothing that Harry could think of _moved_ Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy hadn't responded to Harry's question at all, except to school his features into a hard mask.

"Look, let's get the bodies up to Dumbledore," Harry sighed at last.

"What good will that do?" Malfoy asked, his lazy drawl belied by the tension in his eyes.

"He'll want to know, and he might know who they are," Harry retorted. "I certainly don't recognize them, but they look like they're probably our age."

"Fine." Malfoy took out his wand. Soon, the body of the boy floated at his side and he took off toward the headmaster's office, Harry right behind him with the girl.

"What's the password?" Malfoy demanded impatiently when they stood before the stone gargoyles that hid Dumbledore's office. Harry prayed that no passing prefects came upon them in this compromising position.

"It's Sugar Melon," a deep voice came from behind the boys. Harry jumped, but to his annoyance, Malfoy didn't even twitch. Both turned.

Albus Dumbledore stood behind them, all amused twinkle of the eye gone. His expression was the one that reminded Harry of some of the ancient deities he had read about in History of Magic. He radiated strength and energy. Harry felt his racing heart slow. Dumbledore would make things all right.

Well, as all right as two dead children could be made.

"What has happened?" the Headmaster asked sharply, his eyes taking in the scene before him.

"Can we talk in your office, Professor?" Malfoy's voice still tightly controlled, but not as disrespectful as usual.

"Of course." Dumbledore stepped past the boys and called, "Sugar Melon."

The gargoyle leapt aside, and Dumbledore led them up the winding spiral staircase to his office. With a flick of his hand, two army cots had appeared in front of the desk.

"Lay them here," he commanded, his voice grim. Harry and Malfoy directed their unpleasant cargo onto the cots. Dumbledore bent over them, examining each closely. Finally, he straightened to speak to his two students.

"Murdered." He spoke softly, but the word seemed to cut the air. Harry felt his face harden and glanced sideways at Malfoy. His expression was infuriatingly unreadable.

"How, Professor?" Harry asked quietly. The castle had always seemed the safest place in the world to him. Even during fourth year, Harry had felt safest within the castle itself.

"Unforgivable Curse," Malfoy spoke up, his voice carefully neutral.

"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded.

"Do you recognize them, sir?" Harry asked, looking down at the pallid faces with unease.

Dumbledore didn't answer him. He was watching Malfoy closely. "Mr. Malfoy, does this boy look at all familiar?"

"Of course he does!" Malfoy snapped, his icy control cracking a bit. "He looks like me!"

Harry started. That was the key! He'd known the boy looked eerily identifiable.

"Relative of yours, perhaps?" Dumbledore's voice was even as he watched the dark shadows moving across the Slytherin's eyes.

"No," Malfoy said firmly. "Never seen him before." "All right," Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Neither of them look recognizable to you, either, Harry?"

Harry hesitated.

"I've never seen them before, but -" he sighed. "I don't know, the girl - something about her is - god, I don't know! I feel kind of sad, I guess. Like I would if someone in Gryffindor died." Harry's gaze paused on the patch stitched into the girl's robes. Slytherin. He frowned. His eyes then flickered over to the boy's in curiosity. Gryffindor. Odd.

Why would a boy who looked almost exactly like Draco Malfoy, enough like him to be his twin brother, have been sorted into Gryffindor? He couldn't understand how a Malfoy could ever be sorted into Gryffindor. He tore his stare away with effort, and returned his attention to the headmaster.

Dumbledore was nodding thoughtfully.

"Do you know anything about them, sir?" Malfoy demanded, his gaze still on the corpses.

"I do, in fact," he said softly. He seated himself behind his desk and regarded the _living _students before him.

"They came here by way of a Time-Turner," Dumbledore said finally. "From the future, I believe. Well, _our _future. It would have been their present, of course."

Harry knew he was gaping.

"What?" he asked. "How do you know, sir?"

"One of the privileges of being headmaster is that you know most of what goes on around the castle," Dumbledore answered, a ghost of a smile passing over the wizened face. "Several wards around the castle were disturbed by their arrival."

"But do you know who they are?" Harry persisted, glancing involuntarily down at the bodies and feeling a foreboding prickle in his gut.

Dumbledore's expression became, if possible, graver.

"I will tell you with the understanding that the information won't leave this room." He eyed first Harry, then Malfoy, over the tops of his half-moon glasses. "Under the circumstances, you have a right to know."

He waited. Both boys nodded in agreement.

"Their names," Dumbledore said slowly, "are Tristan Potter and Hayden Malfoy."

"Hell," Malfoy mumbled, his stony expression shattering into astonishment at last. Harry knew how he felt. No wonder they looked so familiar.

"Relation?" he asked Dumbledore, not sure he wanted to know.

"Your son," he nodded to Malfoy, "and your daughter." His head inclined to Harry. "Both are seventh years."

The room was quiet for a few minutes, as Harry and Malfoy regarded their children. No wonder he had felt a jolt when he had first seen the girl - Tristan. She was his blood relative - his daughter. And she was dead. He felt a horrible pang in his chest. He hadn't even known her, and yet he felt her death as though it had been Ron's or Hermione's.

"What can we do?" he demanded, his voice mechanical.

"Nothing, Harry." Dumbledore seemed to draw his gaze. "You must not do _anything_."

"But this is my daughter - my _child_," he insisted, staring in horror at Dumbledore. "I have to do _something_!"

"Didn't you hear him, Potter?" Malfoy's voice was lazy and drawling once more. Harry stared at his emotionless face, appalled. "He said leave it."

"That's your son, Malfoy!" Harry bit out. He hadn't thought the Slytherin could be any more heartless. Apparently, he had been wrong.

"What do I care?" Malfoy smirked faintly. Harry searched his face for some sign of hidden pain or regret. He could find none. "Didn't even know the guy, did I?"

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore broke in. "While I will reiterate that you must not go meddling with time, Harry, I would expect you, Mr. Malfoy, to show some compassion. Murder is not to be taken lightly."

Malfoy's face remained expressionless.

"At least it was clean," he shrugged. "I've seen worse."

"And I would expect," Dumbledore said softly, "that after such events as you've witnessed in your life, you would not take a murderer for granted."

Malfoy pursed his lips, but did not respond.

"But, sir - Professor," Harry broke in, his chest still tight. "Are they really dead? Wouldn't there be some copy of them in the future?"

"I'm afraid that isn't the way it works, Harry," Dumbledore sighed, his eyes gentle as they regarded Harry's pained expression. "A person's conscience, that is, their awareness, can only exist in one time. Dying while traveling into the past effectively ends your life in _all _times. When one dies in a time before their own present, a loop occurs. These children will live up until the point at which they traveled back. Then they will loop back in time and die." Harry winced, but Dumbledore went on. "Their lives are now looped. They cannot live past that moment when they came back in time. Had they been traveling into the future . . ." Dumbledore looked lost in thought for a moment. Then his eyes sharpened and returned to Harry. "But they were not."

"But the murderer," Malfoy broke in. "Who was he? Why did he kill these kids?"

"Our kids," Harry corrected harshly. "And they obviously had a reason for coming back, didn't they?"

"And we'll never know what that was, Harry," Dumbledore said firmly. "As to the killer," he turned back to Malfoy, "the Department of Mysteries has been investigating a case involving a missing Time-Turner. I will inform them and they will look into this."

"Are either of these kids wearing one?" Harry asked. A quick inspection showed that they were not.

"The killer probably took it," Malfoy surmised. Harry noticed his pale eyes lingered for more than a moment on the Gryffindor patch on his son's chest.

"Most likely." Dumbledore looked suddenly weary. "The Department of Mysteries does investigations into events of this nature. Leave it well alone. I mean it, Harry. I do not want you to get involved. As I'm sure you've learned from past experience, messing with time is a very tricky business."

He stood.

"I must deal with the bodies and get a letter to my contact at the Ministry," the headmaster said. "In light of this event, I'll have your detentions rescheduled for next I will warn you again that the events of this evening must not leave this room. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." Malfoy nodded, turning away.

"Headmaster," Harry said, unable to stop himself. "There're still existing copies of our children still alive, right?"

"Yes."

The answer sounded almost reluctant and Dumbledore's gaze was hard. "What has happened is that their lifetimes have been knotted. As I told you,they will live until the point at which they go back in time, and then loop back to the time of their death. Once they die, time will loop back to the beginning of their lives. This is called a Temporal Tear. No more, Harry. Go up to bed, and do not concern yourself with this. You know the consequences of any more serious rule-breaking."

Harry did know. He had been warned in his second year that any more deliberate and unnecessary rule breaking would just about land him an automatic expulsion. But surely doing something about his daughter – his _dead_ daughter – was necessary.

He followed Malfoy out into the corridor. Surprisingly, the Slytherin turned to him with an odd expression.

"Leave it," he advised. "Don't get involved, Potter. You could make things worse."

"What's worse than them being _dead_?" Harry said, rather louder than he'd meant to. Malfoy glared back at him. Then his expression flattened into its usual provoking smirk.

"Suit yourself," he drawled coldly. "But I'm watching you, Potter. I'd love to see your sorry arse expelled, like it should have been years ago." He turned and sauntered unhurriedly away.

"That's right, Malfoy."Harry felt bitterly angry and couldn't help getting the last word. "Get yourself a few extra brownie points with Snape. Glad to see you've got your priorities straight."

He strode up to Gryffindor Tower and didn't fall asleep until daybreak.

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD**

Draco scowled as morning sunlight spilled over his bed. He'd been hard pressed to let sleep win him over, his mind brimming with unpleasant reveries. Was his son really lying dead in Dumbledore's office? What had killed him? What had he been like? Why the hell had he been in Gryffindor? Who was his mum? Ah, there was an interesting question, Draco thought with a feral grin.

Why did he bloody _care_?

Grumbling to himself and wishing he'd never been born, the handsome blonde dressed carelessly for the first time in his life, and made his way toward the Great Hall. He figured breakfast would smarten him up and hopefully give him that Malfoy-esque edge he needed to attend to his usual day-to-day existence.

He was just outside the entrance hall when a voice from the shadows saved him from further unpleasant reveries.

"What did you do to him?"

Draco turned to face the owner of the voice. The shock of red hair caught his eye at once.

"Why are you talking to me?" he retorted.

Ginevra Weasley stepped in front of him, blocking his way into the entrance hall. Her small frame wasn't terribly imposing, but she arranged herself into a stance that suggested she wasn't moving until she got what she wanted. Though she would have been hard-pressed to stop him if he physically removed her, not even Draco Malfoy was low enough to hit a girl. Anyway, this might be fun – it would certainly take his mind off things if he could make her cry. "Get over yourself, Weasley." Draco rolled his eyes and smirked his darkest at her. "It's hardly something I'd discuss with you."

"You've done something to Harry!" the sixth year snapped. Draco was mildly surprised to find that this shy little girl wasn't so timid after all.

"What makes you say that?" he egged her on, enjoying her volatile mood. Weasleys were amusing when they were angry.

"Don't be stupid," she snorted. "He came back from detention with you looking white as Sir Nicholas -"

"I assume that was a compliment, Miss Weasley," said spirit remarked in passing.

"Of course, Sir Nicholas." She turned a wide, radiant smile on him, before whirling back to Draco with a nasty glare.

"Oh, back to spying on Potty, are you?" Draco mocked. Actually, he realized, he had a perfectly decent excuse not to tell Ginevra anything - not that he needed one. "Sorry to disappoint, but Dumbledore forbade either Potter or me to tell anyone." Because he knew it would infuriate her, he leaned down and tweaked her freckled nose. "Sorry, love."

Then he stepped around her and continued on, his morning's taunting doing his morale - and ego - a world of good.

"Draco, what were you talking to the littlest Weasel for?" Blaise Zabini demanded as he settled himself down at the Slytherin table between Crabbe and Goyle.

"I think I do good work, Blaise," he hedged with a shrug, noting Ginevra's angry glare and giving her a tight-lipped, predatory sneer. He figured he had better keep conversation light and as polite as he could manage, since Blaise hitting on him could spoil any level of contentment he might be experiencing.

His eyes wandered from the distraught redhead to the raven-haired boy sitting on her right. Potter looked rather pale and seemed to be only partially aware of his best friend's incessant babble. After a moment, the Gryffindor seemed to feel Draco's sharp gaze upon him, because he looked up.

Draco watched Potter conjure up a decent look of loathing before going back to his untouched breakfast.

So the git was up to something. Never knew when to keep his nose out. Draco had seen beyond the vacant look in the boy's eyes. He had a look that the Slytherin himself often wore. Potter was plotting something, and whatever it was undoubtedly had to do with their kids. Or rather, their _separate _kids. Draco winced as he realized how wrong his original thought had been. Kids with Potter . . . he actually shuddered.

Draco shook his head to clear it and, remembering what he had thinking before his perverted mind had been sidetracked, felt his expression lift into a tight smile. Whatever Potter was planning, it would undoubtedly be very much against the rules and possibly involve Granger and Ron Weasley. Stupid git couldn't keep a secret to save his life!

Well, whatever it was, Draco decided he would keep an eye on them. Anything - _anything_ - to get Potter expelled! He hadn't been kidding when he had told Potter he would look for any excuse to get him into trouble.

"You seem awfully quiet this morning," Blaise commented, sliding over to take the place of Goyle, who had just stumbled to his feet. She slid close enough that her lean thigh rested gently against Draco's.

"Running the world's a difficult show," he quoted absently, not in the least affected by her charm. In fact, he really did wish she would lay off. She may have been gorgeous and seductive, but she was also brilliant. She was just behind Granger as far as good marks were concerned, mainly because she didn't really apply herself. This frustrated Draco, because she was one of the few girls he could see himself befriending without the inevitable sexual tension getting in the way.

"What's wrong?" she asked in a would-be sympathetic voice that came out more like a Pansy simper.

"Well, the fact that you're rubbing my leg comes to mind," he snapped, his patience (what little existed to begin with) running a thin line. Blaise reluctantly backed off, though she stayed perseveringly beside him. Suddenly, Draco decided he had had enough.

"Right," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, "I'm off." And getting gracefully to his feet, he stalked away, glowering at a pair of his first-year housemates, who cowered under his icy eyes.

"Taking out your mood on your own kind, are you?"

"I've said it once, I'll say it again - sod _off_, Potter," Draco spat, shoving the doors of the Great Hall open and strolling away at breakneck speed.

"Wait a minute, Malfoy," the Gryffindor called. For an instant, Draco thought of not stopping. But he needed to know what Potter was planning, and Potter might just be dumb enough to give something away.

"What?" Draco drawled, turning slowly back around to face the other.

"Remember what Dumbledore said," Potter said simply. "Don't tell anyone."

That was all. He turned away and was gone, leaving Draco standing silently in the corridor.

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD**

Why had he bothered to stop Malfoy? Harry let his brain toss that one around a bit. Of course, the obvious and easy answer was that reminding Malfoy that he was being watched always put the slime ball on edge and would remind him not to say anything about their kids.

_Their _kids . . . ugh! Harry thought, realizing how _wrong _that sounded. He shook his head vigorously, trying to return to his first thought.

When he finally recovered from the disturbing thought, Harry reflected that something else had caused him to follow his nemesis from the Great Hall. He wanted help. He had been planning and plotting all night. He had snuck down to the library at two in the morning to do research. He knew what he wanted – _had_ – to do.

He had to save his daughter. Initially, he had thought that Dumbledore might do something about it, but then he remembered what Hermione had told him about "messing with time," as she had put it, in their third year. If time was already being tampered with, Dumbledore wasn't going to go about wandering through time and making things worse.

Nope, screwing up always fell in Harry's arena. But he was good at it and he usually managed to save the day regardless.

He knew he was trying to justify his actions, and was rather annoyed that Hermione's prissiest voice kept popping up in his head, telling him not to be "silly" and that he shouldn't involve himself in things he didn't understand. But he did understand. That was his daughter whose icy skin h**e **had touched the night before. And even though he didn't know her, her life meant more to him than rules.

He ran a hand through his hair as he climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. He knew Malfoy was suspicious **– **and that he was no fool. He was smart and if he wanted Harry busted, he would find a way to make it happen.

Unless Harry didn't do anything.

That was part of his plan as well. Wait a few days, let things get back to normal, then take care of part one of the plan.

Three days passed and Harry congratulated himself on appearing his usual self. He had had enough adventures with Ron and Hermione to be fairly good at keeping things normal when he was scheming. Actually, his biggest job so far had been keeping everything from his best friends. They didn't notice anything, or at least didn't appear to, but the trouble was that Harry could usually rely on their help.

Not this time.

If he was caught, he didn't want them to go down too. Aside from making him sick with guilt, he couldn't have survived Malfoy's taunting. Someone had to be around to kick the blonde boy's arse once Harry had been expelled.

The trick now would be slipping away without them noticing. Harry was seated with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. He was eating a healthy amount, just for show, though his nerves were on end. Malfoy would also notice if Harry left alone. This would take some work.

Harry glanced at the staff table. All the teachers, including Dumbledore, were still there. Right.

"Where're you going, Harry?" Hermione asked as he got to his feet, in hopes of melting from the room shielded by a group of fourth year boys.

"Forgot something in the dorm." He smiled reassuringly at her.

"I'll come along," Ron said, getting up as well. "I left my Potions essay on my desk."

"Again?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I was tired," Ron defended, glaring at her. Harry tried not to smirk at the less than subtle sexual tension dancing circles around his best friends.

"I'll grab it for you," Harry offered quickly. "You haven't finished your breakfast and we've got a match to prepare for, haven't we?" Another important part of his plan involved the crowd of students in the Quidditch stands the following night. The castle would be nearly deserted.

"Thanks, mate." Ron reseated himself and dug into his porridge. Hermione gave his not-so-gentlemanly table manners a reproving look. Ron caught the look, grinned, and pressed a big, porridge-y kiss to her cheek. Hermione shrieked.

"_Ron_!" she snapped, wiping her face with a napkin.

"I know," he said, his cheeky grin widening. "I'm a glutton. 's why you love me, right?"

Hermione's expression immediately softened.

_The smile's what gets her every time, _Harry thought, hiding his own and hurrying away from the table. The pang he had been feeling for not telling them his plans lessened a bit. _They'll have each other after I'm gone._

"Is something wrong, Harry?" Ginny called after him, looking up with unmistakable concern. Fortunately, Ron and Hermione were too busy playing footsy under the table to hear her.

"Nope, never been better." He smiled reassuringly at her. She still looked doubtful, so he doubled back and pulled her into a brief, friendly hug.

"Don't worry, Gin," he insisted as he pulled away.

"All right," she said, returning his smile and not blushing under his gaze as she might once have done. He felt relieved. "But – Harry – well, I know I'm not your best friend, but if you need to talk –"

He looked down at her in surprise. Her expression was steady and sincere.

"I appreciate that," he said, hoping he sounded as grateful as he felt. "See you."

"Yeah," she nodded.

He left, feeling a bit better. It was nice to be reminded that he had friends. Knowing just wasn't enough, sometimes.

He moved swiftly toward the stairs up to Gryffindor Tower. As he mounted the first step he heard a faint click behind him. He knew it was the door of the Great Hall closing on someone else. He was also fully aware that Malfoy was following him. He had seen the stealthy Slytherin slip out of his chair out of the corner of his eye.

"Nice try," Harry mumbled. He couldn't hear Malfoy, but he had a sense of their distance. Mounting the final few steps to the seventh floor landing, Harry sped up almost imperceptibly. He was counting on a sharp corner in the corridor that Malfoy probably didn't know about. Only Gryffindors had any reason to spend lengthy amounts of time in the seventh floor corridor.

When it came, Harry was prepared. One hand gripping the object beneath his cloak that he had hidden there while dressing that morning, he dove around the corner, allowing his reflexes to take over. The corridor was deserted.

Harry pulled his hand out of his robe and drew his Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders, his pace a light-footed run. He had to be on the opposite side of the hallway when Malfoy came around the corner.

He made it. Malfoy's head appeared around the corner almost exactly the moment Harry simultaneously pulled to hood of his cloak over his head and reached the safety of the opposite wall, where there was no risk of Malfoy bumping into him.

"Come out, come out, Potter," Malfoy muttered to himself, his eyes scanning the hall and passing right over Harry. He started down the hall and Harry held his breath. But Malfoy passed his hiding place and disappeared around the corner at the other end of the corridor.

Letting out a silent sigh of relief and grinning smugly, Harry detached himself from the wall and slipped away down the corridor. The teachers should still be at breakfast. And he had an office to raid.

The rest of the plan should, by all accounts, have gone smoothly.

He reached Professor McGonagall's office without a hitch and slipped inside. It was in one of the tallest towers of the castle, which was definitely to his advantage. He kept the cloak on – experience was the teacher of paranoia – and went straight to her desk. He took his wand out of his robes pocket and prodded the first desk drawer. Sparks flew from the end of the wand, but the drawer didn't move. According to Harry's knowledge that meant no spells or hexes lay guard over the drawer. He pulled it open.

Neat stacks of parchment filled it, in addition to some quills (probably cheat-proofed) that lay in a gold box alongside. Harry dug carefully, knowing he couldn't be too cautious when dealing with anything McGonagall.

He made it through five more drawers before he finally found what he was looking for. He almost missed the hidden compartment entirely because it seemed too obvious. He was digging through a stack of textbooks in one of the deeper drawers when he came across a very old, very tattered copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One. Smiling reminiscently, he pulled it out and let it fall open.

And there it was.

It was one of those books with all the page**s **glued together and a little empty nook cut into the middle. Totally McGonagall. Harry's grin widened. There was nothing empty about this compartment.

With great care, he lifted the gold hourglass from its hiding place and slipped it into his pocket. Then he quickly closed the book and replaced it in the desk drawer. He was just sliding the drawer shut when he heard a voice outside the door.

He swallowed hard. It was McGonagall. Sliding out from behind the desk, he moved to the window so that he would be out of her way.

The situation was a bit worse than he had anticipated. The door opened, and Snape followed McGonagall through the door. Harry felt himself shudder as all of Fred and George's disgusting jokes about what McGonagall and Snape did alone in the Transfiguration classroom came to mind. He swallowed again.

"Really, Severus, I don't know what you're worried about," McGonagall was saying briskly. She seated herself behind her desk and motioned Snape to a chair in front of it.

"This is Potter we're talking about," Snape retorted coldly. "If what Dumbledore says is true, and there is something concerning Potter's family going on, the first thing he'll do is get himself into trouble." Snape's lip curled. "I certainly wouldn't want anything – untoward – to happen to him, but he _is_ extremely foolish in matters that he doesn't understand."

"I'll thank you to be polite when speaking of my students," McGonagall snapped with unusual vigor. "Reckless though he sometimes is, Potter is as brave and noble ­– _and intelligent – _a young man as Gryffindor has ever seen."

Harry felt a warm glow in his chest. Minerva McGonagall was Hogwarts' strictest teacher and she wouldn't have been caught dead telling him something like that to his face.

"Be that as it may," Snape went on, seemingly unwilling to pursue the subject for once, "do keep an eye on him, Minerva. He's up to something. I know Draco's been watching him."

"Indeed." McGonagall pursed her lips. "I'll remind you, Severus, that Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter have always been at odds. And Draco has given his classmate every reason to dislike him."

_Score one for me!_ Harry thought gleefully, forgetting the severity of his current predicament. _Take that, you greasy git!_

"At any rate," McGonagall went on, clearly bent on having the last word, "if that is all you came to tell me, then perhaps we should go down. Classes start in ten minutes."

"Of course," Snape said silkily. "I do hope Mr. Potter behaves himself today." And Harry was unnerved to see that Snape seemed to be staring right at him. But the potions master merely stood.

"Good day, Minerva," he said softly, before turning and sweeping from the room.

"Despicable," McGonagall mumbled, glaring ferociously at the door. "Using his students to spy on mine. Unprofessional – most impolite." She was still muttering when she collected several books from the monstrous shelf behind her and departed.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. That had been too close!

He made it a safe distance from the office without incident, and then ducked into a dead-ending side passage to remove his cloak. The knowledge of the tiny object nestled in his robe's pocket strengthened his resolve not to let Malfoy catch him.

Now, if he could stay out of trouble until after his match tomorrow, he'd be home free.

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD**

Draco knew something was up. Potter had been looking too smug for his own good during classes on Friday morning. He had even gone so far as to wave jauntily at Draco as they passed in the hall and had called cheerfully, "Good luck with the match tonight!"

This unusual and highly suspicious behavior had set the blonde on edge. Something was rotten in the state of Hogwarts, and it was directly related to bloody Potter's high spirits. The other members of the Dream Team also seemed a bit confused by their friend's mood swing, but they seemed pleased that he was in good humor for once and left him alone about it. Only little Ginevra seemed truly concerned. Draco had seen her eyes following Potter with an expression of unease.

Perhaps it was the Gryffindor Seeker's good mood, or perhaps it was the constant presence of Blaise Zabini, that was turning Draco's own temper so sour. He grew progressively more volatile every hour leading up to the match. What with a Gryffindor versus Slytherin match that evening, the usual tension should have been snapping. But with their Seeker and captain in such a good mood, the other Gryffs seemed determined to follow his example. Even Ron Weasley grinned good-naturedly at him.

"See you in the ring, Malfoy," he called across the Potions classroom that afternoon.

The weather was drizzly and wet, but it seemed that the entirety of Gryffindor House was resolutely cheerful. Everyone smiled, no one more than Potter, who seemed to be bursting with excitement for some reason. Draco gave the black-haired boy a look, which promised that his eyes were wide open, but Potter merely smirked at him.

The weather cleared up in time for a spectacular match that evening, in which Gryffindor flattened Slytherin with Quaffle scores, but Draco managed to catch the Snitch. He would have been exultant, as he rarely beat Potter, but he couldn't help seeing the obvious distraction that slowed Potter's admittedly superb reflexes.

Hell, he was up to something, all right.

Draco's suspicions were only confirmed when Potter disappeared from the crowd of Gryffindors crammed onto the Quidditch field.

"Shit," Draco muttered. He would get Potter if it was the last sodding thing he ever did!

"What's wrong, Draco?" Blaise, one of Slytherin's Chasers, called as Draco dug his way through the crowd. He ignored her and craned his neck. No one else seemed to have noticed the black-clad figure vanishing into the night. Potter was heading for the castle.

Draco sped up, his intention of getting to Potter and nailing him red-handed driving him on as he dodged friends, avoided enemies, and elbowed all others out of his way. Everyone was so busy talking and laughing and arguing about the game that no one seemed to have noticed that both the Seekers were heading for the castle alone.

Well, almost no one.

Just before Draco reached the edge of the crowd, a lone robed figure detached itself and swept after Potter's dwindling shadow. The hair gave her away.

Ginevra Weasley.

Good, Draco thought with a smirk. Kill two birds with one stone.

He moved silently across the dark field between the Quidditch pitch and the castle, keeping a carefully controlled distance between himself and Ginny.

And so the chase continued. It was hard work following Ginny, who was shadowing Potter, without being seen, but he was clever and the staircases weren't feeling vindictive that night, evidently.

Potter was heading for the top of the castle, and Draco soon surmised that it was probably the Astronomy Tower. But why?

Potter glanced around, and then disappeared up the stairs. Ginevra, hidden behind a suit of armor, followed noiselessly when his footsteps died away. Draco moved behind the vacated armor and waited for Ginevra to ascend the steps. Once she had, he followed silently.

At the final landing before the Astronomy Tower door, Draco stopped to listen.

"Gin!" The silly girl had been spotted. She'd probably wanted to be, Draco surmised with a sneer.

"Harry, what're you doing?" she demanded. "Why'd you leave the match?"

"Look, I can't explain." Potter gave an 'I'm so brave and noble-minded' type of sigh. "Please get going, Gin. If they find you here, too, you'll probably get into loads of trouble."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what you're doing, Harry!" she insisted stubbornly.

Potter looked surprised.

"I'm actually not allowed to tell you," he said, looking a bit smug. Ginevra seemed irritated.

"So Malfoy informed me." She looked unimpressed. "But whatever happened the night of the detention, I get the feeling this is your own little scheme."

"What makes you say that?"

"Women's intuition, Mum calls it." She grinned prettily at him.

"Whatever." Potter tried to look annoyed and failed. "Look, just go, all right?"

"Sorry." She crossed her arms. He didn't speak.

"Fine – compromise," she said at last. "You do whatever you're going to do and I'll stand here and watch. I just want to know, Harry."

He hesitated.

"That way," she added helpfully, "if it's really a secret, you haven't actually told me and you won't be breaking your word to Dumbledore. And someone will know what's up, just in case."

"Oh, fine." Potter sighed again. "I've got to go before anyone else shows up, anyway."

He pulled something gold and shiny from his pocket - and Draco knew.

"Bit too late, I'm afraid, Potter," he smirked, stepping out of the stairwell with his wand drawn. "What's that you've got there?"

"Malfoy!" Potter's hiss was dark. "I knew I was being followed."

"Women's intuition?" He pointed his wand between Potter's eyes. "Planning on going to save them, are you?"

"Not that it's any of your business, since you don't give a damn!" Potter snapped, his green eyes blazing.

"What's going on?" Ginevra demanded, her hands now on her hips as she stared back and forth between the boys.

"Er - I hate to break things up," yet another voice came from the stairwell. Everyone turned to see Blaise step quickly into the moonlight.

"Did you follow me?" Draco stared incredulously.

"Yes, but that's not important right now!" Blaise's voice was lowered.

"Why were you following him?" Ginevra asked in surprise.

"Shut up, Weasley!" Blaise spat, her eyes still on Draco. "Look, someone's coming up here."

They all stared.

"Another student?" Potter sounded forcefully hopeful.

"Hardly," Blaise ground out. "Someone in red robes with the hood drawn. The castle's basically deserted right now because everyone's still out on the pitch. Whoever this is isn't being sneaky." She paused, glancing around.

"Well, we're not going to be able to hide or anything," Draco said, glancing around. "Not that we need to, if it's a teacher."

"None of the teachers wear robes like that, stupid," Ginevra snapped, looking suddenly nervous.

"No, they certainly do not," a cold, harsh voice said from behind them. All four jumped and spun around. Their cloaked visitor had arrived. He kept his hood drawn and his wand pointed steadily at the four students.

"Who're you?" Ginevra demanded, her voice rather high.

"That's not really any of your concern," the voice drawled.

"I'd say it is," Draco retorted. "You _are _threatening us, aren't you?"

"Details, details." The voice was disdainful. "I've merely come to collect something I believe Potter has." The hooded head turned toward Potter. "Where is it?"

Draco glanced at him, too. Potter's face was set, but he gave Draco the smallest glance. It was as though the four teens shared an unspoken agreement. They all shifted a bit to group up around Potter in the middle of the room, Blaise moving to block his hands.

"Look." She smiled invitingly at him, turning on the come-hither attitude with a flourish, but not stepping away from Potter. "We're just curious is all. You seem like the kind of person Draco or I might be interested in getting to know." For a moment, Draco thought she might be serious, until he felt something brush the back of his hand. Something cold. Potter was wrapping the gold chain of the object Draco had seen in his hands around Draco's wrist. Draco's hand bumped Ginevra's and he suddenly realized what Potter was doing.

"Foolish girl," the hooded figure scoffed, though his eyes had moved from Potter to Blaise's seductive leer. "You have no idea who you're speaking to."

"No kidding," Ginevra spoke up, clearly intent on keeping the guy from getting too engrossed in any of them for too long. Good thinking, really, since Potter was still preparing their escape route. "That's why we asked who you were."

"Don't be impertinent, girl," the apparition said silkily. "One more death will hardly mar my record, will it?"

"_You_ killed them?" Potter snarled, and Draco felt his attention leave escape and move rapidly on to their assailant. Draco reached behind him with difficulty and gave Potter's hand a sharp jab to remind him that now was not the time to get heroic.

"Of course I did," their attacker answered silkily. "I doubt there's anyone else around this miserable place capable of murder."

**  
**"Clearly you've not spent time with some of the Slytherins," Ginevra spoke up again. To his relief, Draco felt Potter's hands move jerkily back to the task at hand.

"Enough of this!" the figure said, hefting his wand again. "Potter, give it to me!"

"Too late," Blaise said smugly.**  
**  
The room flickered and vanished, as Potter tipped the Time-Turner he had been holding over and over.

They were off.

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD**

TBC


	3. In Which Appears a Cornucopia of Awkward

**NEW A/N: **This chapter has also been refurbished and hopefully cleansed of any plot holes, technical errors, etc. I wanted to mention that, in keeping with J.K. Rowling's canon, my fabulous beta XX and I have agreed that Ginny's name should be changed from Virginia to Ginevra. This fic _is still pre_-_OOTP_!!!, but her name is the same no matter which novel we're talking about, so we're correcting it. Also need to mention that there may be additional important plot added here, as well as a bunch of additional dialogue. Hope everyone enjoys!

**Disclaimer: **I solemnly swear I am up to no good – er, I mean, we own nothing. Yeah…

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD**

It was a sickening sensation – something like flying backwards unbelievably fast. Harry wasn't completely unfamiliar with it – he had experienced time travel via Time-Turner before – but the blurring rush of colors and indistinct shapes slipping past him was still disconcerting.

Suddenly, there was solid ground beneath him, and the room swam back into focus. He was lying in the darkness in a confused tangle of limbs on the floor in the uppermost level of the Astronomy Tower.

"Get off me, Potter!"

Harry blinked at the familiar female voice. He looked down as his eyes adjusted to the dimness, instinctively shoving his spectacles back into place. He was staring into a pair of heavily-lashed, purple eyes that burned furiously up at him in the moonlight. Blaise Zabini's lips twisted, and Harry gazed dumbly at her for a moment before hastily scrambling to his feet. He heard the Time-Turner, still dangling from his wrist, click sharply against the stone floor and he fumbled with it for a moment before getting it safely round him neck.

"_Ow! _You stood on my hand! Watch it, Weasley, you clumsy cow!"

Harry turned to see Ginny crawling indelicately off of Malfoy. Her haste was causing the foul-tempered Slytherin more harm than good.

"Hurry up! You're no bloody feather, you know – _oof!_" The blonde's complaint was cut off as Ginny gave him a tap in the ribs with her foot. She straightened, looking dizzy, and brushed herself off, giving Harry a weak smile.

"So - where are we?" Her hushed voice echoed slightly in the cold, round tower room.

"Don't you mean _when_ are we?" Malfoy got to his feet at last, shaking dust from his dark green Quidditch robes. "Want to enlighten us, Potter?"

After casting a vigilant look around, Harry shrugged and tucked the Time-Turner under his Quidditch robes. "We've come forward in time – I hope – about twenty-three years."

Blaise's eyes went wide, and Ginny, already pale, went slightly green and swallowed hard.

"Tw-twenty years?" Harry could see the sixth year doing the math in her head.

Malfoy took a quick, distasteful step back as Ginny wavered slightly where she stood. "Don't you dare faint, you worthless bint! _I'm_ not catching you."

Color rushed back into the redhead's cheeks. She pulled herself tall and turned to glower at him.

"Don't worry – I wouldn't touch you to scratch out your eyes, you over-groomed, smarmy-mouthed, dodgy-eyed little bugger!" Her small hands curled into claws at her sides as if she were thinking of doing it anyway.

Harry´s eyes widened and he saw Blaise´s eyebrows disappear into her fringe.

"Over-groomed? Dodgy-eyed? What kind of insults are those? Come on, Weasley, admit it. You _crave_me; e_specially_ my eyes," Malfoy drawled, leering at her.

Ginny took a deep, sharp breath, and Harry noticed her want clutched in her hand.

"We don't have time for this," he cut in impatiently. "There are more important things."

Malfoy glanced over, and gave him a smug look. "I know what you're about, Potter. This is because of that rubbish with those dead kids."

"Talk about them that way again and I'll snap your neck!" Harry snarled, already feeling a violent itch in his hands to do just that. "Who the hell do you think you are, Malfoy, acting like it's just some minor inconvenience to be pushed aside –"

"You sad bastard. You didn't even know them, and here you are, going off into that sanctimonious, exterminating angel – "

"What are you talking about? Who's dead?" Ginny asked, in white-faced alarm.

"I've got you this time, Potter," Malfoy told him, ignoring Ginny. His tone was laced with malice. "They're going nail your arse for this one. Not even that geriatric codger Dumbledore is going to be able to smooth it over. When we get back, they'll expel you from Hogwarts in minutes."

"_If_ we get back," Harry heard Blaise Zabini mutter from behind him.

"There's nothing to keep us from getting back," Harry told her with forced calm over his shoulder. "True, I wasn't expecting the three of you, but things should still go to plan. We just need to warn the – the, er – _kids_, go back a few minutes early, warn Dumbledore, and catch the guy in the red robes before he makes it to the tower. It's as simple as that."

Malfoy gave a derisive snort. "Simple, right! How about we just call it Operation: Chance in Hell?"

"Nothing is simple about time travel, Potter," Blaise snapped. "Just the fact that we're standing here could be having a devastating impact on the past and the future. We could end up being killed. So you'd better fess up. Who the hell are these kids you're on about?" She stepped around Harry and frowned at him suspiciously. Her eyes were almost level with his. "Why won't you tell us what's going on?"

"Listen, I'm sorry, but nobody asked you to come along, did they?" Harry began, feeling the need to defend himself.

"Why bother asking, Blaise?" Malfoy snapped, cutting him off. His disdainful gaze moved to his housemate. "Potter is trying to save the bloody world again." He looked at Harry, and his upper lip curled as he regarded him in disgust. "And just how do you think we're going to go about warning them, Potter? Blaise is right. We could all end up getting killed – we can't let anyone see us. We could be mistaken for dark wizards – or worse. It's all a waste of time, if you ask me."

"No one did," Ginny pointed out coolly. Taking a deep breath, she went on. "Anyway, who would recognize us after twenty years? We'd all be in our forties – you know, old, gray. _Wrinkled_." Blaise and Malfoy made loud noises of protest. Ginny went on, ignoring them. "If no one knows who we are, we're in no trouble, right? No worries."

"On the contrary, I'm afraid you've all – shall we say – put your collective foot in it, Miss Weasley."

Harry's eyes darted to the entrance of the Astronomy Tower. Dread – and a vague sense of "I was only trying to help – _god, _this is unfair!" – clutched at the base of his spine when he saw who had spoken.

"I do not have to ask how you arrived here – and I find that I don't care very much _when_ you've come from. It's the why that concerns me."

Professor Severus Snape stood in the doorway.

Snape of the distant future didn't look very much different from Snape of the past. The only difference Harry was able to make out was the slightest hint of white marring the dark hair at his temples. Everything else was the same – including the greasiness and the perpetual sneer hovering round his thin lips.

"Professor Snape – I know this looks bad, but it's really important that I speak to Professor Dumbledore immediately," Harry said quickly.

"I don't expect that you are here at Hogwarts, in the future, quite by accident, Mr. Potter," Snape commented darkly in return, taking a single, eerily silent step inside the tower room. His long black robes slithered familiarly along on the stones behind him.

"It's all Potter's doing, Professor –" Malfoy began, wasting no time in settling the blame on Harry's shoulders. Ginny glared at him.

"Save it, Draco. I have no doubt that you were dragged into this mess unwillingly. Be that as it may, you are still here, instead of in your present, where you belong."

"Please, sir, we have to talk to Dumbledore immediately!" Harry hesitated and then added, "It's a matter of life and death!"

A curious smirk twisted Snape's face. "You assume much, Potter. I'm afraid Albus Dumbledore is no longer headmaster of Hogwarts. He moved on many years ago."

"T-then who is the new headmaster?" Ginny asked shakily. She brightened a moment later, as though something has occurred to her. "Or headmistress. Is it Professor McGonagall?"

"Of course not, you ignorant creature," Snape snapped, his black eyes glinting in the moonlight. There was a short pause in which Harry felt his spirits take a distinct nosedive. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like what Snape was about to tell them.

"Professor McGonagall is _not_ the current head of this institution. Sorry to disappoint, Weasley." Harry noted that he didn't look sorry at all. On the contrary, his cruel mouth curved into an unpleasant smile.

"I am."

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDP**

"You must think you've died and gone to heaven," Ginny muttered to Draco as they followed Professor Snape down the spiral steps of the tower.

Draco shot a condescending sneer at her over his shoulder. "Not really – you and Potter are still here. There's always something fouling up the mix."

"I _really_ dislike you," the girl hissed in a whisper.

"You keep saying that – but what does your _woman's intuition _really tell you?" Draco found himself pausing on the stairs and twisting slightly to look at her. "Come on – you can tell me what you really think. You want me in the worst way, don't you? Wanting a snog, I imagine. Just say the word – I'll give it some thought."

She paused. Even standing two stairs above him she barely drew eye level. It didn't come as a surprise at all to see her turning her small nose up at him. "I'd rather fling myself off Gryffindor Tower," the redhead announced in a voice filled with absolute loathing.

"If you're trying to tell me that you aren't curious about what it'd be like to kiss me, you're lying. I can tell you're thinking about it just by looking at you," Draco confided, pushing his face forward until it was a hairsbreadth from hers.

Ginny moved back a bit, looking startled. "I – I am not!" She dropped her eyes and fumbled in her robe pocket for a moment, before removing a black elastic and busying herself by scraping her tumbled red curls back from her face into a loose ponytail. Her eyebrows lifted as she nervously twisted her hands. "Are you going to move?"

Amused by her discomfort, Draco lifted a hand and laid it deliberately on her shoulder. "Not until you admit that you're secretly carrying a torch for me," he told her, trying not to laugh at the appalled look on her face.

"Get your paw off me or – or so help me Malfoy, I swear I'll kick you where it hurts!"

"Whoa. Is this how you treat Potter?"

She stared at him blankly, as though unclear about what he meant. Then abruptly her eyes widened and her cheeked burned.

"Is snogging and – and stuff all you ever think about? There's nothing like that between Harry and me and there never will be! Five seconds, Mal-ferret, or I'm going to do something drastic!"

Draco frowned. He'd never really though about it before, the fact that Ginny and Potter might have had something between them. He had only mentioned it as a joke to get under her skin, but he found himself feeling slightly ill at the thought of them together. Well, the thought of Potter snogging was enough to make anyone retch.

"What's wrong? Did he decide he didn't care for mouthy redheads with freckles all over? Did he turn you out? Poor little Weasel."

Ginny threw him by responding with a sweet smile and then shocked him by grabbing a fistful of his robes and dragging him forward. She settled her lips against his briefly, then pushed him away so hard that the back of his head bounced off the unyielding stone wall.

"_Fuck, Weasley!" _Draco saw white dots explode before his eyes, and bent forward, suddenly feeling nauseous.

"You know, I really don't think so, but thanks for the offer." She passed by him down the stairs and he could just hear her smirking. "When we get back, I'll pass the word around that you're so eager to please. I know a couple of Hufflepuffs who'd be thrilled to meet you."

Draco hissed and glowered at her retreating form from beneath his brows as he gave the back of his skull a fierce rub. The little bint _clearly_ had a death wish!

"Bloody…ill-tempered…_shrew_!" He fingered the lump growing beneath his scalp while his other hand made an impulsive grab for his wand. He could, with very little effort, envision himself descending the steps behind the smart-mouthed witch and gleefully hexing her into oblivion . . . or maybe just dragging her off and keeping her hidden somewhere until she admitted she wanted him to shag her senseless –

"Try to keep up, Mr. Malfoy," Snape's flat, dour tones echoed back up the stairs at him. Draco bit back a violently perplexed, very indignant snarl as he was forced to hurry in order to catch them up.

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD**

"Watch it, Potter – I don't want to have to burn these robes just because you touched them again," Blaise said as Harry inadvertently bumped her shoulder.

Harry frowned at her and watched her brush at her clothing as if he had sullied it in some way. The pretty young woman flipped her hair and walked past him.

Ginny fell into step beside him. "Sweet Merlin, she's a contrary little witch."

"Wouldn't you be if you had to walk around looking like you had dung under your nose all the time?" Harry forced himself to respond lightly. He watched Blaise's slender shoulder's tighten in reaction at the insult.

"This is _awful_," Ginny murmured in a subdued, resentful voice as they followed Snape through the strangely deserted halls. Clearly, Hogwarts students were either in class or in the Great Hall.

"You're telling me," Harry whispered back. "I bet Gryffindor hasn't won the House Cup in _years_ because of that git."

"If Gryffindor hasn't won the House Cup, it's obviously because they're rubbish," Blaise pointed out with some scorn from just in front of them.

Harry stiffened as he heard Malfoy snort from the rear of the group at this. It was like being surrounded by a nest of vipers.

"Speak for yourself, Zabini," Ginny spat. Harry didn't appear to be the only one taken by surprise at this outburst. He glanced back and saw Blaise's expression momentarily twist in surprise. A moment later, however, she regained stable footing.

"I suggest you shut it, you ill-bred wretch – you nowhere near the same level of existence as I am," she retorted tightly.

"What was that, Zabini?" Ginny mockingly held a hand up to her ear. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you – your mustache is so distracting, you know."

"_Me-ow_," Malfoy murmured.

"I suggest you retract the claws, ladies," Snape said pointedly. "We've come to the end of our journey."

He had stopped before a statue, but it wasn't the massive stone gargoyle Harry was so used to seeing. In its place coiled a giant, winged serpent, which gave the appearance of trying to devour itself. Its fanged jaws were wrapped securely around a good portion of its scaly tail.

"That's a positively hideous snake," Ginny muttered, eyeing the statue distastefully, but with an unwilling sort of fascination to which Harry could relate.

"That's no snake, Weasley, it's a dragon. An _Ourobus_, to be precise," Malfoy informed her with a superior look. "It's said to spend an eternity feeding on itself."

"Why am I not surprised that you know so much about dragons, _Draco_?"

Harry grinned at Ginny as she rolled her eyes at the other boy. He could get used to the new, more brazen Ginevra Weasley.

Snape utterance of the password saved them from the blonde's no doubt caustic response.

"_Hairy MacBoon._"

"A _Harry_-what?" Ginny muttered.

Harry could only shrug. "_I_ never would have guessed it."

Just as the statue slid aside, exposing the familiar moving set of spiral stairs, a loud, breathless voice sounded from down the corridor, followed by pounding footfalls.

"_Oy, Professor Snape!_"

Harry watched Snape very slowly, and in an extremely long-suffering manner, roll his eyes toward the ceiling.

"Professor, wait! Professor Vector sent me to give you a message!"

A tall, solid-looking redheaded boy in black school robes skidded to a stop behind them, and Harry turned completely around to get a better look at him.

The boy's red brows lifted above surprised blue eyes. "Hello there! Don't remember seeing you lot around Hogwarts before." He gave Blaise a particularly interested once-over before frowning. "Look awfully familiar, though. I'm Dorian. Dorian Weasley. New here, are you?"

"Weasley," began Snape in a warning tone.

Dorian suddenly did a double take. "_Crikey Moses!_" His eyes had fallen upon Harry. ¨I mean, Jesus god! Are you – I mean, no, you can´t be!¨

"Can't tell he's one of Weasley's sprogs, can you?" Malfoy sniggered from beside Harry as the redhead stared at them with what was unmistakably Ron's goggled-eyed expression.

"_Uncle Draco?"_ The look of disbelief on the boys' face became even more pronounced, as his gaze swung over to the blond.

"Weasley!" Snape barked, his menacing glower entirely lost on the boy. "Ten points from Gryffindor, and if you don't cease your babbling this instant, you can take fifty!"

"_Uncle_-what?" Harry, still feeling confused, turned his head and glimpsed Malfoy looking bitterly offended.

"_Uncle?_ Merlin´s pants, this can´t be happening!"

"Ian, there you are! I thought we were meeting in the –oh, hey, Dad. What're you doing . . . oh,_ my god_!"

Snape had apparently abandoned his attempts at stopping the inevitable chaos. He was now leaning resignedly against the stone archway leading into the stairs, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited with uncharacteristic patience for impending pandemonium.

Harry gaped around hopelessly, feeling as if he had been turned arse over elbow. A replica of Draco Malfoy now stood at Dorian's shoulder. There was no mistaking him – it was Hayden Malfoy.

The pale gray eyes widened as they flickered over the baffled looking group, coming to rest finally on Ginny.

"_Mum?_ Is that you? What's going on? What are all of you _doing_ here? Sweet Merlin, you look – um –" He seemed quite at a loss as he stared at her.

Ginny's mouth dropped open in undisguised horror, and she regarded at the boy in blank astonishment.

Harry felt his heart give a sickening lurch as he watched Malfoy's face disappear in his hands. Ginny . . . and _Malfoy?_

The blond Slytherin lifted his eyes to glare at the vaulted ceiling.

"Mum?" Blaise breathed. _"Her? _You_ married _her? Draco, how_ could _you? I mean, honestly!" She looked less angry than revolted.

"Get stuffed, Zabini!" Ginny choked out, her hand strangling a fistful of her red curls. She looked distinctly sick; Harry could commiserate.

"May as well throw _myself_ off your bloody tower, Weasley," Malfoy was growling at Ginny. He began pacing cagily, a black frown on his pale features. Pausing, he looked over at Ginny dispassionately, and then his lips twisted again. "Married," he snarled in disgust. "Married to _her_? Wait until my father hears about this!"

"Cor blimey," Dorian whispered to Hayden, who was himself looking both shocked and fascinated. "_That's_ Tristy's mum? Bit of a dish, isn't she? I thought Dad said she was a beast." His eyes trailed over Blaise's curves appreciatively. It was unsettling to Harry in the extreme, seeing such a blatant expression on a face that so closely resembled Ron's. Could this be Ron's son? Surely it must be – he was too tall to belong to either of the twins and Harry was sure that any child belonging to Bill or Charlie would have graduated by now. And Percy – well, no child of his would have been eying Blaise in such a thoroughly indiscreet manner.

"_That's_ Aunt Blaise?" Hayden was saying as his brows flew up. His pale gray eyes ran up and down the Slytherin girl's shape beneath her robes in an insulting manner.

"You're right, Ian," he continued in a very _Malfoy_ way,** "**I thought she was supposed to be . . . well, _big_." He then glanced over at Dorian, who was still eying Blaise, and slapped the back of his friend's head. "God, man, that's somebody's _mum_ you're eating with your eyes. Exercise some self-control."

Malfoy surfaced out of his own misery long enough to snicker mockingly. "_Big?_ Told you to lay off those pumpkin pasties, Zabini."

Harry looked up, reluctantly meeting Blaise's cold, narrowed purple eyes and feeling reality crashing down around his ears. Was it true? _She_ was his daughter's mum? Blaise Zabini? A _Slytherin?_

He had_ married _Blaise Zabini?

The shocked silence didn't last for long. Dorian Weasley, obviously unused to quiet of any sort, cleared his throat, and jabbed his 'uncle' in the ribs companionably with his elbow.

"Wow, Uncle Harry, she's a posh bird – you lucky bugger. Looks a bit high maintenance, if you ask me, though. Probably cost you a bomb, getting rid of her."

Vaguely aware his jaw was brushing his chest, Harry snapped his mouth closed and reflexively pushed his glasses up with a shaky hand.

"You just had to stick your nose in it, didn't you, Potter?" Malfoy spat at him scathingly. "Couldn't leave it alone, could you? Someone back me up here – wouldn't we all be much, much happier if bloody Potter hadn't tried to be the hero again?"

"Sod off, Malfoy!" Ginny retorted right back. "It's not his fault!"

"Oh, lump it, Weasley! You have no idea what the hell you're talking about!"

Blaise stuck her nose up and stomped off past Snape, who made no move to stop her. Her long dark hair slapped Harry's shoulder as she stormed away down the corridor. He watched after her helplessly, a huge knot of depression lodging in his throat. _This_ was what he had to look forward to – Blaise Zabini, drama queen and all around nasty Slytherin – _for the rest of his life_.

The whole notion that they would one day be married and have a child together seemed just absolutely incredible. Not to say she wasn't, er - attractive – but she was such a cold, heartless, stuck-up snob . . . he couldn't recall having exchanged more than a few words with her in the past.

"She _can_ throw one hell of a wobbly, can't she?" Dorian mumbled, sounding exactly like Ron and convincing Harry that this was indeed his best friend's son. "Why is it always those bleeding Slytherin birds who pitch such a bitch fit?"

"Is that loo still around the corner?" Ginny suddenly asked weakly, her eyes hollow.

"Yeah," said Dorian, eager to be helpful. "You okay? You're looking dead beat_."_

"What's wrong, er - Mum?" Hayden took a concerned step forward around his friend. "Are you all right?"

Harry shook his head. A Malfoy asking after a Weasley – it just kept getting weirder.

Ginny made a disturbing gurgling noise in her throat and backed away from him. "Er . . . heh . . . I'm fine, really. I - I think I . . . just have to go be sick now."

Malfoy stepped up next to Harry as the distressed redhead turned away and tore off down the corridor.

"Good thing she pulled her hair back," he commented lazily, stuffing his hands in his robe pockets.

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDP**

"Are you feeling quite all right now, Miss Weasley?" Snape demanded impatiently.

Harry watched Ginny drop into her chair before the headmaster's desk and give a weak nod, though he didn't think she really was. She was so pale her freckles stood out on her cheeks, and she looked as if she were torn between wanting to yell and wanting to cry. He couldn't blame her.

"I knew something weird was going on," Dorian was saying self-importantly. "The minute Vector told me to –"

"She knew the wards around the school had been disturbed, by us arriving," Harry said, glancing at Snape. "But you'd already realized, hadn't you, Professor? That's why you were in the tower – ¨

"Come up with that all by yourself, did you, Potter?" Malfoy sneered from his seat.

His temper flaring, Harry made as if to stand, but Snape's voice stopped him.

"_Children_," he drawled, with emphasis."I recommend that you restrain yourselves, unless you'd like me to take points from both your houses?"

Harry set his jaw and slowly sat back, but allowed his wand to slip down into his hand from his sleeve.

Malfoy only smirked at the implied threat, settling back into his chair, and carelessly crossing his arms.

"Sorry, Professor," Hayden spoke up, "but what exactly is going on? Are these – kids, really our parents?"

"Who are you calling a 'kid'?" Malfoy said reproachfully, eying his son in disgust. "We're the same age, right? Obviously you got your _mother's_ brains."

Harry could see Ginny looking around for something to throw at him.

"Don't you talk about my mother," Hayden shot back nastily in the same tone, sitting forward in his chair. "You can't be my father – _my_ father would maim anyone who dared say anything against my mum."

Suddenly Harry could hear Ron's horrified voice in his head, as if he were standing near and observing the happenings with dread. _"Blimey, Harry, there's _two_ of them? The world is coming to an end, I'm telling ya'!"_

He was really starting to worry that that was the case, too. He couldn't see much of a difference between the two Malfoys at all, except that Hayden was wearing black school robes and Draco was still in full Quidditch regalia.

"You'll show some bloody respect, brat, or I'll hex your tongue into knots!" the latter retorted coldly, straightening up slowly in his chair, his eyes turning icy.

"Yeah, that's your dad all right," Dorian coughed into his hand at Hayden's side.

"Potter – why don't you tell me exactly what's been going on?" Snape's dark eyes swept around the room, demanding silence, and daring any of them to speak out of turn again.

Harry took a deep breath. "Well, you see . . . "

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPPDDPDP**

The first thing out of anyone's mouth was, "Obviously, we can't tell Tristan."

Harry looked over Hayden in surprise. "Why not? It's her life that's in danger."

"What, you think she could handle something like that?" the boy sneered. "She'd probably start crying and demand to see her daddy. Convenient, actually," he added, with a glance at Harry.

"Oh, be fair, Den," Dorian said, nudging his friend. "She's wicked nasty when she's scared. You'd know that better than anyone."

"Come off it!" Hayden said sharply, looking far from amused. "She's pathetic. I can see it now: 'Oh, daddy, it's dreadful! Someone's trying to kill me and Hayden. I'm so _scared._'" His eyes darkened. "Or she'd use it as an excuse to throw herself at _my_ dad. 'Oh, Uncle Draco, it's _dreadful_! Won't you _hold _me?'"

Malfoy glanced at his son, looking utterly repulsed.

"Potter, if we ever meet your daughter, you'd best be sure she keeps her hands off me," he said darkly.

"No fear," Harry retorted. "No daughter of mine is coming within _miles _of you."

"Don't bet on it," Hayden cut in. "My dad's her godfather and she's infatuated with him."

Harry felt sick and was sure he looked it.

"You sound jealous, kid," Blaise spoke up mockingly. "What, is your daddy getting all the action?"

"Hardly," Hayden said loftily. "I'm younger _and_ twice as good-looking."

"Oh, I dunno, Den," Dorian said thoughtfully. "I mean, if Tris really is obsessed with Uncle Draco, odds are you'll do for her in the end."

"Like I'd let _that_ happen," Hayden muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Sweet Merlin, have you shagged Potter's daughter?" Malfoy demanded of his son in disbelief. He dropped the book he had been uninterestedly pawing through and it hit the floor with a thud.

Harry winced and was sure he looked as disgusted as the idea made him feel.

Dorian, however, released a strangled snort of mirth.

Hayden glared at his father, a slight tinge of red rising high up on his sharp cheekbones. "No! Not that it's any business of yours. We're . . . acquaintances."

"More like sworn enemies," Dorian observed in a voice choked with laughter. "Don't worry about those two – they can't stand each other."

Ginny's eyes shot up to meet Draco's before she dropped her head. "Apparently that doesn't mean anything," she mumbled, red-cheeked.

"As much as I'd prefer not to involve any more than half the school that already seems to know," Snape cut in with biting sarcasm, "I believe it would be best to give Miss Potter fair warning." He stood up, his expression rather pinched. "I'll go and extract her from the Great Hall. The rest of you will kindly wait here - non-violently - until I return." He disappeared out the door with a last warning look.

"She's probably still down there smirking about thrashing Ravenclaw this morning," Hayden muttered offhandedly.

"Rubbing Starla Parkinson's konk in it," Dorian agreed with a faint smile. "And who can blame her? That girl's a twit."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked curiously, feeling an odd gnawing in his stomach at thought of meeting his daughter.

"I forgot, you wouldn't know, would you, Uncle Harry?" Hayden arched a brow. "Tristan is the Slytherin Seeker."

Harry's shock was accentuated by Malfoy's mean chuckle. He had known, of course, that his daughter was in Slytherin, but . . . the phrase "fraternizing with the enemy" popped into his head, courtesy of a jealous, fourth-year Ron.

"The irony is delightfully sickening, isn't it, Potter?"

"Sure is, seeing as I'm Gryffindor Seeker and all," Hayden said flatly.

It was Harry's turn to laugh at the stunned look on the blond's face.

"How can the two of you laugh about this?" Ginny was sitting in her chair with her hands over her own face.

"Poor Weasley – disappointed Potty didn't marry you instead?" Draco jeered. "I bet it's just breaking your tender little heart, isn't it?"

Harry stood up, fisting his hands. "Malfoy, you arse! Think about the kids."

"Who cares what he says, Uncle?" Hayden said coldly. "He's being a prick – he's not my dad."

Draco narrowed his eyes on Ginny. "You know, you're probably right."

Harry had his wand out in a second, but Hayden beat him. The tall blond Gryffindor stood above Draco rubbing his knuckles, staring down at the boy who was now out cold on the floor.

"Draco!" Blaise didn't move from her seat, but glared balefully at Hayden. "How dare you? He didn't deserve that! What are you, some kind of barbarian? Wizards don't use their fists!"

"Right, but it hurts more this way," Dorian said with a grin.

Rolling his eyes, Harry shook his head and put away his wand. "He deserved that.¨

"I don't understand this," Hayden said, sounding bewildered, and wincing at his skinned knuckles. "I always knew you two had had some kind of rivalry at school, but you're friends now, Uncle Harry. Close friends. And this - he never acts anything like this with us. He's never so…well, bloody_ awful_."

"I suppose that's a comfort," Ginny sniffled, and Harry looked up to see her red eyed and crying.

"Mum – Mum, don't cry," Hayden said hastily, kneeling by her chair. "I'll make everything all right, you'll see."

Ginny blinked at him, and then threw her arms around his neck with a broken sob. "I'm having a nightmare!"

"It's okay, Mum," Hayden patted her back awkwardly, exchanging a helpless glance with Harry. "It's all okay."

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDP**

Draco still hadn't come around by the time Snape returned with Tristan, who looked exactly the same as Harry remembered – only alive, of course. She caught sight of Harry then and her bright green eyes widened. A hand went to her mouth as she gazed around at Harry, Blaise, Draco, and Ginny.

"Daddy?" She ventured at last, her eyes returning to Harry. "Oh – oh, my god!"

"See?" Hayden snorted from his place by Ginny. "Told you she'd go into shock."

Tristan's eyes narrowed as they rested on him with a look of pure loathing that Harry knew quite well, having worn an almost identical look himself many times in the past when dealing with Hayden's father.

"Sod off, Malfoy," she said, her shock cooling into precise Slytherin arrogance in an instant. "The day I go into shock over anything is the day you win a Quidditch match against me." She smirked. "Although I could probably beat you half blind with one arm." She glanced at Dorian. "You lot up in Gryffindor really ought to consider replacing him, you know. You might actually have a chance then."

Harry found himself exchanging bemused glances with Blaise, which was _not normal_. He couldn't help it. It was almost like watching a fight between Harry and Malfoy, but with the houses reversed.

Hayden's expression darkened.

Snape cleared his throat pointedly, clearly deciding not to let things get any more out of hand. His thin mouth curled into an unpleasant smile. "If you two are quite done, I believe your safety must be seen to. I have alerted your parents. If you are each safe in your homes, until the danger passes, and not in the castle, where the unfortunate incident is to take place, it stands to reason you'll come to no harm."

"Home? But, sir – " Tristan stared resentfully at her Head of House. "My classes – and what about the last match of the season? Sir, you know we'll be flying circles round Gryffindor! I've been training all year for this!"

"We'll arrange something for your classes," Snape drawled. "And stop fussing about Quidditch. You're worse than your uncle, and that's saying something. As for more – important concerns – from what Potter tells me, the danger to you and Mr. Malfoy should have passed well before the end of school, in time for you to take your N.E.W.T.s. Now, I suggest you the two of you go to your dorms and pack. Your parents should be along shortly to collect you."

"I'm going, too!" Dorian announced determinedly. "Hayden's my best friend, and I go where he goes!"

"Oh, that's nice, Ian," Tristan said, her icy demeanor dropping just long enough to allow a small smile and nudge at Dorian.

"Don't worry, Tris," he said, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "There's _plenty_ of me to go around."

She stepped quickly away from him.

"I was afraid you'd say that," she said, eying him warily.

Dorian grinned and returned his attention to Snape.

"So, sir," he said. "Am I going?"

Beetle black eyes glittered at him for a long moment before Snape gave a short nod.

"You may go and owl your parents about it – that's all I've to say on the matter." His gaze swung to rest on Harry and the others. "As for the rest of you – I'm arranging for you to go directly back to your own time."

"But we can't just go back!" Ginny said. She had stopped crying, but still looked very upset. "We have to make sure they're going to be all right!"

"She's right, Professor – we have to stay and see if we can capture the killer!" Harry seconded, glad he had one person at least on his side.

"If you don't want to get into any more trouble than you are already in – and I assure you, you are in a very, very great deal already – I suggest you cooperate with me before I'm forced to have you arrested!"

"You can't arrest Dad for trying to protect us!" Tristan snapped. "In case you don't recall, Hayden and I were murdered right after we apparently got hold of a Time-Turner _right under your nose_!"

Just as it seemed that Snape was about to explode, the door to the office creaked open, and a group of hooded, dark-robed figures came hurrying in. Harry was raising his wand reflexively when he found himself staring down one.

He heard Ginny gasp as another wand was pointed directly at her.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Harry blinked as he heard a slightly gruffer version of his own voice erupt from within the dark hood.

"Merlin, Harry, isn't it obvious? He's _you_," came a familiar voice from nearby. Harry craned his neck and saw one of the figures drop his hood. His jaw dropped as he caught sight of who it was.

"_Ron?_"

Ron – or at least an older version of him – grinned back, running a hand through slightly thinning red hair. It was Ron Weasley, all right – down to the last freckle.

"Hey, Harry." He waved.

"Bloody hell," Draco moaned from the floor. He was slowly coming to.

"What happened to him?" came an amused drawl from the figure standing near Hayden.

"I hit him," Hayden answered promptly.

"Hmm."

Harry was distracted from the figure's answer as the man before him dropped his own hood, though he kept his wand cautiously trained on him.

Suddenly he was looking into his own face, as if he were staring into a mirror. However, his reflection was slightly aged and there were dark shadows beneath green eyes that held a fierceness that he had never seen in them before. There was also a hint of beard stubble about his chin. The scar on his forehead was a bit faded, but still clearly visible through the untidy fringe of black hair that fell across it.

The future version of himself smiled slightly, but the tone of his voice when he spoke was menacing.

"What the hell have you done?"

**PBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPPBPBPPBPBPBPB**

Draco felt a shooting pain streak along his jaw as he cursed, and slowly opened his eyes.

He thought for a second that Hayden was staring back at him, but no, it was – "Father?"

The low, silky laugh he heard made him frown – no, that definitely wasn't his father – and he sat up, tentatively feeling his jaw. At least the bloody thing wasn't broken.

"Do I really look that bad?" The older, long-haired blond stood watching him patiently, as if waiting for something.

Draco scowled. "What are _you_ staring at, old man?" he sneered, even though it hurt like a bitch.

The man gave his head a slight shake, and his silver eyes became frosty. "I can see why you hit him." His black-gloved hand fisted as if he wouldn't mind landing Draco one himself.

"This is very odd." The figure standing before Ginny Weasley lowered its wand and pushed off its hood –

To reveal the most breathtaking woman Draco had ever seen in his entire life. She looked at him with wide, gentle brown eyes, and smiled with generous, soft pink lips. Her long, dark red curls gleamed in the candlelight as she straightened up.

"Malfoy, that's _you_?" Ginny Weasley hissed in awed disbelief from her chair.

Draco found he didn't very much care what was going on outside of those deep, brandy-brown eyes.

The woman laughed, and the sound tinkled soothingly along his nerves. "Don't give him a bigger head than he's got already, dear," she told Ginny with a wink.

Draco stared at the red-haired goddess until he felt strong fingers encased in black leather grip his chin and yank his head away. The older man with long, white-blond hair was kneeling before him and smirking – and he finally realized with a jolt exactly who it was he was looking at.

"I'll thank you to stop salivating over my wife," the man said. "She's not yours…yet."

The long haired blond was _him._

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDP**

TBC


	4. In Which Everyone Bickers

**New A/N**: Behold the tremendously refurbished Chap. 4! I can't tell you what a relief it is to post yet another vastly improved chapter. More to come in the future. I apologize if the site does anything to screw up formatting (like gluing two words together or even, god forbid, two paragraphs). I still haven't figured out why this happens or how to avoid it. Anyway, here's hoping you'll enjoy as much as I do!

**Disclaimer:** I solemnly swear I am up to no good – er, I mean, we own nothing. Yeah…

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDDPPDPDPD**

There was a long pause as Draco stared down his young counterpart.

"Um." Tristan, who was still leaning into her father, cleared her throat. "I – I'm thinking we've got more important things to argue about than Aunt Gin at the moment."

"I'm inclined to agree." Mrs. Malfoy smiled at her."Boys – break it up."

Her husband dropped Draco's chin. "You'll keep a civil tongue in your head, boy, or I'll hex it into knots."

Nearby, Dorian prodded Hayden in the ribs. Draco's son winked, folding his arms and watching with evident enjoyment.

Draco blinked. When he wasoffered a hand up,he gave the room at large an almighty glower, got up on his own, and threw himself into a seat beside Ginny

"So – Severus," Unspeakable Draco said, looking faintly amused at this display and turning to his former mentor. "What're we going to do with them?"

¨I was just telling Potter," the headmaster said with narrowed eyes, "that he and his friends – " Draco and Blaise both made loud noises of protest, which he ignored – "will return immediately to their proper time. Potter, as usual, has other ideas."

"What else is new?" Draco muttered from his chair.

"Why not hear him out, then?" Ron demanded from where he stood beside Mrs. Malfoy and his tall son.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Weasley, as I´m sure you and your department are already aware, these _children_," he drew the word out with a curled lip, "have broken half the Ministry of Magic's time traveling laws by doing what they've done. I think, under the circumstances, I'm being quite lenient."

"Oh, come off it." Unspeakable Harry rolled his eyes. "You know how I was back then. The Potter Justice and Rightiousness Brigade."

"Oy!" Harry was on his feet while Snape nodded. "Have a little respect! You're talking about yourself."

"The similarity's remarkable," Draco mumbled.

"Zip it," Unspeakable Draco said coldly. "I don't care who you are, you're really starting to brass me off."

"Blow it out your – "

"_Hey_!" Blaise snapped. She had been lounging in a chair beside Draco, but was now sitting up straight, glaring around at them all. "Potter's kid has a point. We've got more to worry about right now! Like why we haven't gotten the hell out of here."

"We can't,¨ Harry insisted. "What about them?" He indicated Hayden and Tristan, who stood with their parents.

"We've warned them, haven't we?" the Slytherin retorted. "Job well done! I want this nightmare over with."

"Wait a minute." Mrs. Malfoy leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "Severus mentioned that you lot had a run-in with some guy in a red cloak before you left."

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, he would have killed us if Harry hadn't wrapped the Time-Turner around our wrists." She sent a disgusted glare in Draco's direction. "Fat lot of good you were there, Malfoy, so keep your mouth shut."

"I _would_ do something stupid like that," Unspeakable Harry muttered. "So what, Gin?" he asked, turning his brooding gaze upon Mrs. Malfoy.

"I think they need to stay here until we can make sure they're safe to go back."

"While your benevolence is quite – touching, Mrs. Malfoy – " Ginny and Draco winced. The adults saw, smirked, and batted their eyelashes at each other. Snape scowled. "I don't think they'll be any safer here than back with Dumbledore in their time."

"Gin's got a point. Suppose they're intercepted or something before they can get to Dumbledore?" Unspeakable Harry put in, his arm still around his daughter. "It's a bloody old trick. A temporal sniper – I'm assuming that's who this guy is – waits around a bit to catch his prey at the point they left. Assuming they can be returned to their exact time of departure, this bloke could take them before they had a chance to react."

"And they can't go back later," Ron nodded. "It wouldn't do them any good, because for them it would mean existing in the possible future, not their existing present –"

"I think I speak for everyone else when I say _what the hell_?" Blaise rolled her eyes. "Some of us aren't Unspeakables who've studied intensive temporal theory."

"Obviously not." Tristan's father fixed his eyes on Blaise for the first time. "Anyway, I expect you'll find that some of us thought too highly of ourselves to take temporal theory."

"Harry." Unspeakable Draco lifted a warning eyebrow and Ron placed a hand on his tall friend's shoulder. "Look, Blaise, it's really quite simple. Each of you exists in exactly one present. If we return you to any time _after_ that you would still be removed from time. Sending you back anytime before that would mean that there would be two copies of you running around and you'd have to avoid yourselves for however long it would take your past selves and the selves who were sent into the past to merge."

Blaise raised a skeptical brow. Draco gave her a smile. 

"All right, so it isn't simple," he admitted. "Harry's right, though. You were never too keen on temporal theory." His expression grew serious. "Anyway, like I said, Gin's right, Severus. They can't go back. Not yet. We need all this sorted first."

"They can come with us," Dorian broke in hesitantly. "We're all going home. And they couldn't be safer than with this lot."

"And you're always complaining about all your siblings." Tristan smiled wanly at him, though her eyes were trained on her father's face.

"You know Ian." Hayden gave his friend a smirk. "His work isn't complete until everyone in the room is begging him to shut up."

Dorian scowled at his friends.

"By the way, where're we staying?" Tristan asked, her lip twitching against a smile.

"I think your house, Tristy – don't you agree, Den?" Dorian waggled his eyebrows at them.

"I think not," Tristan retorted. "Your devout interest in secluded staircase notwithstanding, I don't trust you anywhere near my bedchamber."

Her godfather, Ron, and Mrs. Malfoy snorted. Dorian wasn't fazed.

"You didn't mind at the time." Ron's eyebrows shot up.

"What're you two on about?" Tristan's father demanded, rounding on Dorian, who fled for protection behind Ron. Ron looked mightily amused, but apparently thinking that his son might be in some danger, he raised his hands and began placating his best friend. Meanwhile, Hayden was making extremely graphic gestures at Tristan, who was doing a fine impression of ignoring him and smiling crookedly at her head of house, whose head was in his hands as he muttered obscenities under his breath.

"Merlin!" Mrs. Malfoy threw her arms up in the air. She saw Ginny watching and smiled.

The sixth-year couldn't help smiling in return.

"Does this often happen?"

Draco's wife nodded. "Tristan is Harry's only daughter," she explained quietly as the argument continued in the background. "And ever since – well, I imagine you've gathered that his marriage didn't work out." Ginny nodded. "Harry is Tristy's guardian and he's terrified of losing her. Trouble seems to sniff her out – big surprise, look at her parents! – and Harry gets more tightly wound every time." She glanced at the Unspeakable and his troublesome offspring. "You can imagine how it goes. Harry goes ballistic, Tristan's punishments get more severe, she gets angry and breaks more rules." She rubbed her eyes. "Sometimes I get there in time and advocate, but a lot of the time, the damage has been done."

"Overprotective, is he?" Ginny eyed the grim expression on Mrs. Malfoy's face. "Color me shocked and astonished."

"That's putting it mildly," the older woman sighed, her eyes on Tristan's father, who just then resembled a thundercloud to Dorian's man-without-an-umbrella. "Anyway, Harry's been through hell. Seeing him," she indicated the seventh-year, who was shaking his head bemusedly, "young and cheerful again is – well, it's heartbreaking, really." She paused for a moment, as though her mind was on another time, before she gave her elegant head a soft shake. "_This_ Harry is the father Tristy should have."

"I imagine seeing any of us is a bit surprising," the sixth-year said tentatively.

Mrs. Malfoy's smile returned as a curl at the corner of her mouth. "Shocking, more like," she corrected as her eyes fell on her husband, who was chastising Dorian about Tristan ("subtlety, boy, how many times must we go through this…?"). "I'd forgotten what a stupendous prat Draco used to be."

"Er – has he changed?" Ginny glanced at _her_ Draco. "Forgive me, I can't imagine."

Mrs. Malfoy's eyes met her husband's. He blew her a kiss and she sighed. Then she frowned. "Actually, _changed_ might be the wrong word. I'd say I've adjusted to him and accepted that he must be a prat in order to be the Draco Malfoy I love. Anyway, _you'll _love him."

"Can't imagine," Ginny repeated. Draco was watching the commotion around him with wrapped attention and a sneer that made Ginny want to throw _A History of Magic_ at his head.

"You'll come round," he assured her, his eyes never leaving the quarrel. "I told you, you can't resist me."

"I'll kill you, you disgusting little weasel!" Ginny snarled, while Mrs. Malfoy smiled indulgently.

"I thought that was _my_ line."

"Argh!"

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD**

They did manage sort everything out after more talk and still more squabbling. It was decided – much to Snape's displeasure – that the time travellers would stay put for the time being. As Ron had pointed out, there was no way anyone could see of returning them to their own time without getting them killed in the process. It was also settled on that they would all stay at the Malfoys' home in the country. It was larger than the Potter estate and had fewer visitors, as it was Unplottable.

On the whole, Ginny thought, she should have been relieved. After all, they had escaped a sniper _and_ Snape in the same day – well, sort of the same day – anyway, she should have been feeling better than she was.

It was just the thought of marrying Draco sodding Malfoy, a fact she was reminded of frequently as Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy weren't often apart, and their son - _h__er _son – seemed to be doing everything in his power to make things easier on her.

They left Hogwarts that day, traveling in a large stagecoach that fit all eleven of them quite comfortably. Ginny stared out the window as the familiar landscape of Hogwarts disappeared around a bend in the road.

"What's up, Gin?" Harry asked quietly from beside her. He was leaning forward to look around her out the window, his chin in his hand. To Ginny, he looked tired.

"What, besides this mess?"

"I'm really sorry about all this," Harry repeated for the umpteenth time, scrubbing his face with his hand.

"It wasn't your fault!" Ginny insisted, turning to face him and patting his arm in a way that she hoped he found encouraging. "If I hadn't been following you, you'd have made it out before red robes showed up."

"You were worried about me," Harry said, though she saw his shoulders relax a bit. "It's not your fault, either." His face brightened. "Guess that means we can safely blame Malfoy."

"What now, Potter?" the seventh year drawled.

"He said go shut your nose in a door," Ginny snapped, turning back to the window.

"A bit touchy, you were, Aunt Gin?" Dorian said good-naturedly to the older redhead.

"I often had good reason to be," Mrs. Malfoy told him, nudging her husband. "He was an arse."

"How true." Unspeakable Harry, sitting across from the Malfoys, smirked.

Draco glared at them all, but clearly being the butt of everyone else's joke was something he wasn't quite able to cope with yet, so he maintained a stony silence.

"I wish you'd all give it a rest," Blaise muttered from the opposite window.

"It's nice to want things, isn't it?" Tristan's father bit out. Ginny's eyes widened. Mrs. Malfoy leaned across the carriage and rested a hand his arm.

"That's not your Blaise, Harry," she said firmly. "Let her be."

"_Your_ Blaise?" Blaise repeated, scoffing. "What rot!"

Harry glowered down at his hands, but he didn't reply. His daughter glanced sideways at him, and then gave his hand a hesitant squeeze. He glanced down at her a moment, then draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side.

"Wow, I've changed," the seventeen-year-old Boy-Who-Lived mumbled to Ginny.

"And not for the better," Ginny agreed, an ache in her chest. "Maybe we can fix more than one problem while we're here. Wonder what happened between Zabini and you."

"Your guess is as good as mine." Harry shrugged, glancing at the brunette who in turn sat staring grimly out the window. "What could I have been thinking, marrying someone like her?"

"Who knows? Why in Merlin's name would I marry Malfoy?" Ginny sighed.

"You know how some people think that seeing the future might be fun? Bollocks!" Harry returned to staring out the window.

"Like I said, now that we know, maybe we can do something about it." Ginny didn't think she was convincing anyone, but she carried on anyway. "I just wish I knew more about time than I do now. I know that messing about in the past can have devastating effects on the present and future, but – "

"I don't think we should mess around any more than we already have," Harry murmured. "I've caused a ruddy cock up."

"It's all right, Potter, it's what you're best at."

"And would someone tell me why I would befriend someone like him?" Harry had deliberately turned away from Draco's sneer. "I knew better at eleven."

"I ask myself that daily," Unspeakable Harry put in, smirking at both Dracos. Tristan grinned at him.

"What can I say? I'm irresistible," Mr. Malfoy shot back, shaking his heavy blonde hair from his eyes.

"Just keep telling yourself that, Malfoy." Ron elbowed him.

"Go on," Draco insisted. "Ask your sister." He nodded at his wife, who gave him a look and a peck on the nose.

"Oy, get a bloody room!" Hayden winced, hiding his face in Dorian's shoulder.

"I second that." Ginny felt sick. Ron glanced at her and actually laughed.

"Why fight it, little Weasel?" Draco drawled. "Obviously, you can't win."

"Bugger off, Mal-ferret!" she snapped. She was distracted by Mrs. Malfoy's laughter.

"God, I haven't called you that in years!" she said, grinning at her husband.

"I was rather hoping you'd forgotten." He glared at the younger redhead. "It always annoyed the hell out of me."

"You must admit, it was apt during that part of our – er, relationship." Mrs. Malfoy gestured at Ginny and Draco, who sat with their arms folded, glowering out opposite windows.

"_Relationship_, right," both Dracos said.

The rest of the trip to the Malfoys' estate passed in much in much the same vein. As the trip wore on, Ginny became increasingly desperate at the idea of living with two Dracos and Blaise Zabini for an unknown period of time. It seemed that every time she turned her attention from the window, one of them was glaring or making some underhanded comment about red hair and freckles.

To take her mind off this, she began to contemplete Harry Potter. What could have happened to turn the bright-eyed, brave, funny young man sitting next to her into the cold, fearless, scowling man sitting across the carriage and chatting with Draco Malfoy? At one point she thought about asking, but then decided she didn't care to have that cynical eye directed at her.

By the time they reached the estate, though, night had fallen and Ginny had come up with a number of questions for Mrs. Malfoy, her husband, and Ron.

She was distracted in the beginning, however, by the ride through Red's Park, the Malfoy estate. Several kilometers of forest separated the mansion from the main wizarding road, and it was another ten from there to the nearest Muggle motorway.

"You can only reach the estate by road," Hayden explained after overhearing her mumble something about why hadn't they just used the floo. "No wizarding transport works inside the grounds except for us Malfoys."

"Does that include me?" Ginny asked, instantly regretting that she had.

"You married Dad; that makes you a Malfoy," Hayden nodded. He frowned. "Dunno if it would work for _you_, because you're not part of the family yet."

"Not to worry." Mrs. Malfoy patted Ginny's knee, obviously spotting her expression. "Ask my husband. I'm not exactly Malfoy material."

"You _were _always rather bad at sneering," Draco agreed, pressing a kiss to her neck.

The thing that bothered Ginny most persistently was that somehow, she had fallen for Draco. She couldn't imagine how it had happened, given that, at present, she couldn't stand to be within a mile of him. Yet, she was so much in love in the future. Could this really _be_ her future?

She was still lost in unpleasant reveries when Harry gave her a gentle shake.

"We're here," he said, indicating the darkened window.

Ginny knew she looked like a deer in headlights but she swore she had never seen a more massive house in her life. It was a country estate that must have had more than fifty rooms. Though it was dark out by this time, the house was lit with a hundred tiny lights that illuminated vine ivy swarming the walls in well-kempt patterns. Though pillars stood out against the front of the house, support a third-floor balcony, she could just make out a small side veranda as they pulled up the drive. Against her will, she felt a smile spread over her face. It was her future dream house come true.

Literally.

"Um – you can come inside if you want," Hayden said, raising an eyebrow at her. She blushed as she realized that the others were already walking up the stone steps. She slid out of the carriage, avoiding Hayden's eyes, and hurried to catch up with Harry. Ahead of them, Draco and Blaise were muttering back and forth.

"Vine Ivy," Draco was mumbling furiously. "What was I bloody _thinking_?"

"You deserve it," Blaise sniffed. "You probably did it to please your_ wife_."

"Would you cut that out?" Draco snapped. "Don't expect me to know what I was thinking when I got hitched to a Weasley!"

"You were probably pissed," Blaise retorted, pouting. Ginny glared at her back, both hands fisted. Harry, meanwhile, had made a funny noise in his throat, his eyes burning a hole in Blaise's neck.

"Why, Gin," he whispered to her, "would I ever – ever – with _her_?"

"Ask yourself." Ginny indicated the looming form of Unspeakable Harry settled firmly between Dorian, who was trying keep Tristan in view, and the girl herself, who was yawning and exchanging sour looks with Hayden.

"I'm actually kind of afraid to," Harry grinned sheepishly. "I look pretty menacing, don't I?"

Ginny stifled a laugh.

"Can't argue." To her great annoyance, she noticed a moment later that Draco was still mumbling obscenities about her under his breath.

"Do you mind, Malfoy?" she snapped. "I'm right behind you."

"Really?" Blaise returned before Draco could say anything. "We couldn't see anything except a red glow. Time to trim your beard, I think."

"Says the girl whose eyebrows might be mistaken for mutton chops," Ginny snapped.

"Ooh, got a bit of a temper there, Weasel." Draco's drawl grated against her ears.

"It's no wonder, having to deal with you all the time," Harry remarked coldly. Ginny felt a flash of jealousy at how Harry almost always managed to keep his temper around the git. Years of practice, undoubtedly.

"Smooth, Potter," Draco smirked. "Jealous that I got to shag her before you? Boo-hoo."

Out of nowhere, a hand had grabbed Draco around the collar.

"Let's have a little talk, hmm?" Unspeakable Draco tightened his grip on the seventh year. Gone languid tolerance he had shown since his arrival at Hogwarts. Now he looked dangerous; very much the elite Auror. Clearly, Hayden had been right about the consequences of insulting Mrs. Malfoy. Ginny couldn't quite suppress a smile, although she privately felt quite relieved that she wasn't the one on the receiving end of that temper.

At the top of the steps, both Dracos disappeared through a pair of double doors, while Mrs. Malfoy, with no apparent concern, led the rest up the steps.

"Bloody Draco," Ginny heard Blaise mutter ahead of him. "What kind of house _is_ this?" She was eyeing the ivy and the welcome mat, which grinned up at them with what appeared to be a five-year-old Hayden´s beaming face.

"This, Miss Zabini," Mrs. Malfoy replied calmly, "was build by bloody Draco for his wife, because she wanted it this way." She smiled. ¨You will probably disgusted with the number of pictures of Hayden and his cousins you'll find in every room."

¨I enjoy this one the most,¨ Tristan put in, stomping her feet on the doormat until her father ushered her into the house.

"I think it's all lovely," Ginny murmured, looking around at the ivy, the dark stone, and noticing with great delight a little wire-worked table-and-chairs off to the left.

"You would," Harry pointed out, grinning.

In the entrance hall, it smelled of wood. Wood, apple cider, and cookies. It smelled rather like the Burrow, Ginny realized with a warm feeling in her stomach.

A gasp from one of the women caught Ginny's attention and she looked up quickly. A tall young man stood in a doorway that led into entrance hall. He was dressed in black. A dragon hide coat hung almost to the floor, where dragon hide boots were buckled up to his knees. He was tall and lean, and wrapped in a black shirt and leather trousers. His hair, though clearly naturally black, was highlighted with streaks of gold. His eyes were almost purple.

Ginny realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it quickly. She noticed that Blaise had gone very still.

"Easy, Zabini." Ginny couldn't resist. "He's young enough to be your son."

Blaise growled low in her throat, though her response was a surprise.

"I don't care how old he is; he's my kind of eye-candy, Weasley," she hissed back. "Don't tell me you're not impressed."

"Can't deny it." Ginny licked her lips. Her mouth felt a bit dry.

Meanwhile, Tristan had noticed the stranger as well.

"Ced!" she gasped. She gave a squeal and ran forward, throwing herself into his arms.

"Well, that's rain on our parade," Ginny muttered.

"I knew I hated that girl," Blaise whispered back, her eyes not leaving the boy.

"I thought you had one on for Malfoy."

"Get with the times, Weasley. Why can't I have both?"

Ginny wrinkled her nose.

"Ced, what the hell?" Tristan looked happier than Ginny could remember having seen her.

"Heard you had some company." The young man kissed her cheek and looked down at her with a crooked smile. "Came to see if you were all right."

"I'm fine!" Tristan beamed at him and gave him another hug. "How 'bout you – where've you been?"

"The usual," Ced said simply.

"Ced –" Tristan began, but Mrs. Malfoy was hurrying forward to greet him, and he gave Tristan a minute shake of his black head.

"Cedric!" Ginny smiled warmly at him as he stepped away from Tristan.

"Hey, Aunt Gin," he said, kissing the top of her head and giving her a tight hug.

"Well, that's a start." Ginny the younger threw a sideways smirk at Blaise. "He's not mine."

"If he's mine, I'll kill someone," Blaise muttered back.

"Keep your eyes in your head," Tristan's father advised coldly. "That one's yours, Zabini."

"What?" Harry and Blaise said simultaneously.

"I thought you – I – that is, _we_ – only had one child," Harry said blankly.

"Wish away." Unspeakable Harry gave a mirthless laugh. "Meet Cedric Potter – the bane of your existence and, coincidentally, your twenty-two-year-old son."

"Cedric?" the seventh-year repeated woodenly.

"God, you're horrid!" Ginny blurted, before clamping a hand over her mouth and blushing bright red.

"I'm beginning to agree." Harry's expression as he looked at the Unspeakable was the one Ginny had often seen him direct at Draco.

"He's a reminder of things best forgotten." Tristan's father moved passed the group without a word. His cloak had barely whipped around the doorway when Cedric spoke.

"Wanker," he said, his striking eyes flat and emotionless.

"Never a truer word," Harry muttered beneath his breath. To Ginny, who knew him so well, he looked monumentally frustrated.

"Ced –" Tristan began again, her green eyes over-bright.

"Sorry, love." Cedric summoned up a tight smile from somewhere as he looked down at her. "I know it's hard."

"Doesn't have to be!" Tristan stomped her foot, oblivious to the other people in the room. Mrs. Malfoy rested a soothing hand on her shoulder and looked up at her nephew. He started to shake his head, then caught sight of Harry, Blaise, and Ginny still standing near the door.

"Well, well," he said, with a frown. "What have we here? The reason for Father's foul mood? Not that he normally needs one."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Mrs. Malfoy motioned Ginny, Harry, and Blaise into the room. "This is Cedric, Harry's – your – oh, damn." She sighed in mild exasperation. "Start again. Cedric, this is your father, your mother, and – er, me from twenty-three or so years in the past."

Cedric's eyes raked over Harry, then Ginny, who knew she was blushing, and finally Blaise, who was scowling flames at him. His eyes lingered on her, though not in the leering way Dorian's had earlier that day. There was something powerful in the look, a searching expression as he watched her through hooded eyes. Blaise crossed her arms defensively under his gaze.

"It's a really long story," Harry offered a bit lamely after a long, uncomfortable pause. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but wasn't quite sure what.

"I've got all night," Cedric returned. "Love to hear it."

"Not in the mood – sorry," Blaise snapped, turning her icy gaze on Mrs. Malfoy. "Mind showing me a place where I can crash?"

"Sure. And Ced," his aunt added, glancing sharply at him. "Just leave it for tonight, okay?"

He was silent, his eyes still fixed upon Blaise.

"I'll talk," Ginny heard herself blurt out. Everyone stared at her.

"It's up to you." Mrs. Malfoy shrugged. "When you two are finished, Ced, show her to the east room. Come on, you two." She motioned to Harry and Blaise, and they followed her up the long flight of stairs. Tristan and Hayden offered their goodnights and welcomes to Cedric before trailing after Mrs. Malfoy. They were arguing as their voices trailed away.

"Think we'll turn in as well," Ron told Cedric, indicating Dorian (who was gaping like a fish) and himself. "Take it easy with my sister, Ced."

Cedric smiled faintly. "Give me a little credit, would you? She's my aunt."

"Didn't stop Ian, did it?" Ron threw a glance as his imperturbable son, who was beginning to remind Ginny strongly of Fred in his late teens.

"Hell, we're not blood relatives and Tristy's one fine bird," Dorian drawled.

"Just remember that's my sister, boy." Cedric's voice was dark. He was definitely Blaise's son. "I'll shove your head up your arse if you try anything." Ron gave a very obvious cough that sounded like 'too late' and then dragged his son away before he could cause further damage.

"At least Ron's not changed too much," Ginny sighed.

"That's what Aunt Mione says every time we visit the Hollow," Cedric said.

"The what?"

Cedric gave a real laugh, though it sounded stiff.

"It's a running family joke, you see," he explained. "When Uncle Ron finally sucked it up and asked – or demanded, as Aunt Mione tells it – that they be married, Aunt Mione started spending a lot of time at the Burrow. I guess she was taking lessons from Gran or something, because her housekeeping spells were dreadful. Anyway – come on, we'll go to the den, it's more comfortable – anyway, one day Aunt Mione told Gran she wanted her house to be just as mad and wonderful as the Burrow. Then Gran told Uncle Ron and he, Uncle Draco, and Father built the Hollow. It's – well, it _is_ hollow. It's a humongous hollowed out old tree in the middle of nowhere. With a few rooms added on once the family started growing." He grinned.

Ginny's eyes widen at Cedric's back as he led her through one room, then another, until she was thoroughly lost.

"Bloody brilliant," she muttered. "Who'd've thought my brother would come up with something like that?"

"What, Uncle Ron? He's a genius!" Cedric looked at her with evident surprise. "He was head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before Dad and Uncle Draco convinced him to join their little Unspeakable brigade. Don't know what they get up to in the Department of Mysteries."

"What's with you and Harry?" Ginny blurted out before she could stop herself.

His face tightened. "Oh, I get it," he said softly. "This is a two way interrogation."

"You scratch my back …" Ginny shrugged.

"Fine, but you have to go first." He shrugged in return, leading her through an arbor doorway threaded with blooming vine roses of orange and pink.

"Why?"

"Because I asked first." Cedric flung himself into a large armchair near an elegantly mantled fireplace and waited expectantly.

"Potter logic – never fails," Ginny said, wrinkling her nose. She settled herself in a sofa across from Cedric, took a deep breath, and began.

Fifteen minutes later, and Cedric knew everything.

"And you guys still have no idea who the guy in red was?" he asked.

"None. I mean, I expect we're all thinking the same thing. You-Know-Who is involved in most weirdness that goes on in our time. "

"What, Voldemort?"

"Right." Ginny marveled. Whatever might be going on in his time, Cedric was clearly not a child born or raised in the era of Tom Riddle. ¨Anyway, I don't think so. It's just not his style." She felt a bitter smile on her face as she realized that she was speaking from experience. "Maybe one of his followers, though. Or just some nutter with an agenda. Anyone with enough brains could nick a Time-Turner, and we know there are still spies within the Ministry in our time."

"Uh-huh." Cedric nodded thoughtfully. "Plenty of greedy gits out there. Could be someone looking to sell, too."

"So, there's our story," Ginny sighed. She was suddenly very tired. "I've held up my end of the bargain. Now it's your turn."

"Fire away."

"Where's Zabini?"

"Who, Mum?" Cedric's eyes darkened. "Long story."

"Got all night," Ginny retorted. "And trust me, this whole future is bizarre enough that I want to get everything straightened out."

"What about polluting the time line?"

"Bit too late to worry about it, in my opinion," Ginny said evenly. "Keep you promise." She grinned. ¨Nephew.¨

"Oh, well, when you put it like that, _Aunty_," he returned with a grin. It faded quickly and he took a deep breath. "No one knows where Mum is. Apparently, she took off with one of Father's old friends from Hogwarts. A guy called Longbottom – "

"_Neville_?" Ginny couldn't take it in. That couldn't be right. In fact, it seemed so _wrong_ –

"She left Dad a note, written in this special code of theirs," Cedric went on. "Apparently, she went a long way off and would be staying there forever. The note was pretty cryptic, but she definitely wrote it. Tristan was only four years old when this happened."

"So she just left him?" Ginny thought back to Harry's brooding expression and cold eyes. No wonder he looked so embittered. And no wonder he kept Tristan so close.

"But what's the deal with you and your father?" she pressed.

"I don't believe she really went off with Longbottom," Cedric said bluntly. "I mean, like, _ran _off with him, had an affair. I knew Mum. Granted, I was only nine when she left, but I _knew_ her. She was lovely – most beautiful woman I've ever known. When Father came to me and told me that she was gone and didn't want us anymore, I refused to believe it. I swore I'd be the one to find her." He gave Ginny a dark smile. "I've been searching since I started at Hogwarts two years after she disappeared. I was a Gryffindor, of course, but I bullied a lot of the Slytherin kids whose parents had been Mum's friends into talking. None of them knew anything, because their parents had refused to have anything to do with her after she became a Potter."

"But what about Neville?" Ginny demanded. "He would have had kids at Hogwarts, wouldn't he? He _was_ married or something, right?"

"He was – until he disappeared with Mum," Cedric nodded. "His son Kendal is one of my best friends. Ken's been looking for his dad, too. His mum raised him."

"His mother is –"

"Her name is Lavender."

"Lavender Brown, I bet," Ginny mumbled. "But anyway, back to your dad . . . "

"Yeah – him." Cedric glowered into the fire. "He won't help me look. He reckons she's somewhere in America or something, and he's still so hacked off about it he won't do anything."

"Why do you want to find her?"

"Because something's not right!" Cedric insisted. "I remember Mum really well. She was always slow to offer friendship, or love, or anything like that but once she did, she was in it for life. You should have seen her – she loved Father so much!" He looked suddenly far away. "He played Quidditch at the time – got signed by the Chudley Cannons, of all teams, straight out of Hogwarts and became their star Seeker. They rarely lost a match after he joined, Mum told me. Mum and Tris and I used to go to all his games. And he'd get us into the locker rooms and everything. Then he stopped for a while so he could be home with us for the few years before Mum left."

"Harry at professional Quidditch." Ginny smiled faintly. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Anyway, after Mum disappeared, Father became a reserve for Puddlemere _and _their head trainer so he could stay with me and Tris, but also keep working. When Tris went off to Hogwarts, he joined Uncle Draco as an Unspeakable. He guarded Tristy like a bloody mother lion. She doesn't really remember Mum, so she kind of buys into Father's rubbish about her leaving us. But I knew she had a good reason. I know Mum's out there somewhere." His eyes refocused and his expression was so intense and Ginny had a hard time meeting his eyes. ¨I know she'd want me to find her.¨

"How long have you been looking?" Ginny asked, involuntarily leaning back against the sofa.

"I've actually been traveling ever since I turned seventeen." Cedric shrugged. "Nothing so far, but I can't stop now. Uncle Draco sometimes gives me a hand behind Father's back with money and stuff, since Father won't help at all. And Uncle Ron's still furious that Mum hurt Father so much, but he really likes me so he gives me tips and access to Ministry maps and records."

Ginny sat back, her brain full to brimming with new ideas and insight.

"It's ironic, really," Cedric said, his voice thoughtful. "You and Uncle Draco are the happiest."

"How's that ironic?" Ginny asked.

"Because my father and Uncle Ron were always hero material," Cedric murmured, a sardonic smile on his face. "Uncle Draco wasn't much for that sort of thing until –" he broke off, and for the first time, his gaze slid away from Ginny's.

"What?" Ginny demanded.

She was amazed when Cedric hesitated. At last, looking deep into the fire, he said, "When Hayden was born, Uncle Draco was transformed. He couldn't say a cross word to anyone for months! Aunt Gin – _you_ got pregnant again just about a year later. You – you almost died, giving birth."

Ginny's eyes widened.

"But – but that never happens in the wizarding world," she protested. "I mean, like, once a century, if that.¨

"You were two months premature," Cedric said quietly. "You'd been just fine all through the pregnancy and then, suddenly, you went into labor. We – we were all here. It was around Christmas. You just hit the ground and started bleeding –" he broke off, clearing his throat. "You're the only healer in our family, you know, and you were completely gone from pain and blood-loss. Uncle Draco, Aunt Mione, Uncle Ron, and Mum helped you through it right there. No one from St. Mungo's could come fast enough, since no one can Apparate or Floo in or out of here except the immediate family. And there was no thought of moving you or trying to tandem Apparate."

"Cedric, how old were you when this happened?" Ginny asked, leaning forward.

She saw him swallow. "I was seven. Mum had had Tristy just about two years before."

"Oh, my god."

"It wasn't so bad." He shrugged unconvincingly. "Father took me into another room so I couldn't see all the blood. Anyway, the baby finally came. Alive. Aunt – you had to stay in the entrance hall all night, because they couldn't move you. But you got better after a few months."

"And – and the baby?" Ginny whispered, her throat tight in anticipation.

"Clarissa died on her first birthday," Cedric murmured.

Ginny felt something cold settle in her stomach. Just the thought of losing a child struck a sharp chord within her. She swallowed against the dread rising in her throat. She had always been terrified of childbirth, ever since she had been introduced to what actually happened by her mum when she was thirteen. But the knowledge that she would go through an entire pregnancy, and nightmarish labor, and lose the precious infant a year later made her feel faint and mournful. She wanted to ask Cedric why the baby had died, but her throat was too tight.

"I think Uncle Draco became a hero the night he saved you," Cedric finished at length. He finally turned to look at her. "He's been your protector ever since. He went through a lot and came out one hell of a decent bloke."

"It _would_ take something like that to change Draco Malfoy," Ginny muttered, though her spirits pluck up a bit. Draco _would_ eventually care that deeply for her; the thought was strangely comforting.

"Anyway, I'm knackered." Cedric stretched and got to his feet. Apparently, he had had enough emotional instability for one night. "Come on, I'll show you to your room."

But hours later, even after a long bath in her private bathroom, Ginny was wide awake. Tears that had threatened earlier now spilled down her cheeks. She couldn't stop thinking of her baby, and what other horrors the future held for them all. Did everything have to end up that way now that Ginny and the others knew about it?

Not if she could help it.

**PDPDPDPDDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD**

TBC


	5. In Which Draco Put His Foot In It

A/N: And yet another chapter makes a miraculous comeback looking ... decent, at last. Not that there weren't moments of sheer brilliance on the part of my coauthor (Lee Velviet is one of the funniest writers out there!). We were just crap at editing back in the day. Hopefully, the change is appreciated by everyone, not just J.T.!

Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good…(of course it's not ours!)

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDDPPDPDPD**

"Let go of my neck -!" Draco snarled as the Unspeakable yanked him into what appeared to be a study.

"Stop whining, you sound like a Hufflepuff." Mr. Malfoy sank his fingers deeper into the fabric of the seventh year's silver and green Quidditch kit as he propelled him forward. "Sit down."

Draco had to catch himself as he was thrust toward a chair. He crossed his arms and met the older man's icy gaze with his own. "Think I'll stand, thanks," he sneered, pushing himself upright.

A chilling light entered the Unspeakable's eyes. "Suit yourself." He studied the seventh year for a long moment, apparently taking in everything from the state of his robes to the length of his hair. At last, he said, "As nostalgic as I feel seeing myself in Slytherin colors again, I'm not sure I trust Gin around you in those robes." He almost smiled. "I'll have some things brought up for you."

"Can't trust her around younger men? Astonishing." Draco's lip curled. To his surprise, the Unspeakable only gave him a smirk before turning away and taking a seat behind his desk. Then he turned his eyes on Draco and continued his silent study.

Draco shifted – the silence was stifling. At last, he bit out, "So - going to tell me how Ginny Weasley landed herself one of the richest wizards in England?"

"For a start, the wizard got her pregnant," the older man said, steepling his fingers. Draco's whole body tensed against a jump.

"Doesn't explain why you married her," he managed after a moment's pause. He lifted his chin. "Father would never have allowed me to do something so stupid. He'd have killed me." He paused again, winced. "Twice."

"She's worth dying for."

Draco flinched. No part of him was ready to fight the liquid steel behind the Unspeakable's eyes.

Another pause before Draco finally settled with, "I've never come across anything worth dying for in my life."

"You have; you just don't know it yet." The conviction behind the words made the back of Draco's neck prickle. "Anyway, Father wasn't in any condition after his initial protests to have any say in the matter."

"What do you mean, wasn't in any condition?"

The Unspeakable's lip twisted into a grimace that might have begun as a smile. "I mean he was dead, you twit."

Draco sat down hard in the chair behind him. "Did you – I mean – "

"Did I do it?" The older man actually laughed. Draco noticed how it eased his expression, took half the chill from his eyes. "Apparently, you think more of my abilities than you're letting on."

"You're an Unspeakable," Draco muttered defensively.

"I'm not a murderer." He spoke so softly that Draco scarcely heard him. There was a short silence, then, "As you might imagine, he was tried for war crimes. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban. He died there." The Unspeakable gave a humorless chuckle. "Didn't take long. For all the damage he did, he couldn't handle turnabout-as-fair-play." Mr. Malfoy stood. "Come on. I expect Ginevra will want to be sure you're in one piece."

"What difference will it make to her?"

The other laughed. "In a few years, she'll want to have your children. Git." He patted Draco's shoulder as he passed. "I know it's difficult; try to keep up."

He was almost to the door when he turned back, pinning Draco with a look that would haunt him for days. "Put one toe out of line with either of my redheads again, and I will make your regret a physical and psychological one."

Draco gave him a wide birth as he followed him from the room.

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDDPPDPDPD**

A rustle in the darkness woke Harry up.

For a moment he lay very still, listening. He thought he'd been talking in his sleep again – he often talked so loudly that he'd wake everyone in his dorm, including himself. A moment later, a light flared nearby and he sat bolt upright, snatching his wand from beneath his pillow. He held it before him while his other hand scrabbled for his glasses on the bedside table.

"Who's there?" His voice scratched against his dry throat.

A rough chuckle sounded from the foot of his bed. "You know, if I had been Voldemort, you'd be dead."

Harry finally found his glasses and swept them up his nose. "Oh," he said coolly as the figure in the shadows resolved itself into the Unspeakable Harry Potter. "It's you." He felt his lip curl. "You're a creep."

The Unspeakable snorted. He was sitting on a chair at the foot of the bed, slouched with a leg up. Far from concern, a foreign expression dressed his eyes. Harry didn't immediately recognize it, but after some study he realized it was boredom.

Harry pulled up short as something else caught his eye. "Is that a _tattoo_?"

The older man laughed, a clearer sound than the first. "Yeah." He pulled aside his shirt a bit so Harry could see. The fierce Hungarian Horntail was about the size of a fist and exquisitely detailed - an exact replica of the one Harry had faced in the Tri-Wizard tournament fourth year. Like most wizarding art, it was moving, though at the moment, it appeared to be snoring. Occasionally, a jet of fire could be seen dancing across the Unspeakable's chest.

"I won't bore you with the details - just don't believe Fred when he tells you that you can't get drunk off Weasley-enhanced butter beer."

"Why are you here?" Harry removed his glasses and attempted to rub sleep from his eyes.

"I came to give you the explanation I know you want. You obviously think I'm an absolute bastard." Familiar green eyes glittered at Harry through the gloom.

He shrugged. "I can't even begin to imagine how you can treat your son the way you do." He shoved his glasses back on and stared at the other man, trying to find a trace of something recognizable. "Honestly! You were raised in a cupboard. You're supposed to get this right!"

The older man smirked. "Did it ever occur to you that living in a cupboard probably shook a few screws loose for you? What kind of parenting skills did you expect to learn from the Dursleys?" He chuckled again. It sounded like flaking rust. "I mean, god, it's a wonder Cedric isn't five hundred pounds."

Harry looked at him steadily, unblinking. "You know better than that."

"I guess I should." Harry's nerves grated with the look the Unspeakable gave him; pity, with a healthy dose of contempt. Harry kind of wanted to hit him. "But maybe when you've taken me back to my younger years, I'll rethink my life and finally know the true meaning of Christmas."

"What happened to you?" Harry knew baiting when he heard it. He knew it now because this man sounded horribly like Dudley. Harry wondered if the Unspeakable knew it. He felt some pity of his own.

The older man wasn't smirking anymore. He's expression was flat, unreadable. "Zabini - left," he said eventually. "And I was glad to see the back of her."

"You don't look glad," Harry countered. "You look jealous. Weak."

Ignoring these digs, the Unspeakable rose and moved to the place where Harry had dropped his Quidditch robes. He stooped to pick up the scarlet and gold material, rubbing his fingers over the fabric. "Haven't seen these in years." He traced a finger over the Gryffindor badge embroidered over the chest. "You know, you don't realize it now, but things were so fucking easy at school. Oh, sure – Voldemort, problems every year, little bit of death. But everything changed after Hogwarts. So much more complicated. So much worse." He looked up at Harry, crushing the robes in his fist.

"Nothing happens like you expect; I guess you know that by now. I was a naïve, stupid kid when I married Blaise. Tristan and Cedric became my whole world. I love them more than anything, and thought she did too." His white knuckles stood out against the dark material. "When she ran off, she shattered every illusion she'd built." He snorted. "She tricked me into believing there was a forever, and like a stupid kid, I fell for it. I'll never forgive her for that. I'll never forgive her for hurting the kids like she did."

"You're hurting Cedric now," Harry began.

"He's hurting me as well!" the Unspeakable snarled, dropping the robes. "Wait till you're a single parent with no heart left. Try raising a first-born who worships the _thing_ that betrayed you all. Cedric is convinced that I did something to make Blaise go or that someone took her or she went on a mission and just couldn't make it back to us." He let out an impressive curse, slamming his fist down on the wardrobe. Harry jumped. "Cedric thinks Blaise is in trouble somewhere. He won't forgive me for not going to look for her, even after all these years. But I know exactly where the bitch is." A smile that was a tear against his pale face made Harry's pulse quicken.

Harry swallowed hard. "Where?" he managed.

"She's off living with sodding Longbottom."

"Longbottom? Not _Neville_ Longbottom!" Maybe this was some kind of alternate universe, he thought wildly.

"History's repeating itself, isn't it?" The Unsteakable gritted his teeth. "With Mum and Dad, it was Pettigrew; with Blaise and me, Longbottom. Who'll turn on me next? Malfoy, I can hear you thinking. Maybe Ron."

"I don't believe this!" Harry stared at the Unspeakable. "Do you know who you sound like? You sound like Tom Riddle!"

"Poor little Harry." The Unspeakable shook his head, the unbearable pity gleaming in his eyes. "Life is going to be such a disappointment to you."

"You don't deserve those kids." Harry's whole body tense. He wanted a duel. His fist was aching for the other man's face. He fought against the chaos – his mind felt like it might collapse. He focused on Tristan and Cedric; their faces so much like his, and yet, so much like another's.

"What do you know about them?" The Unspeakable's voice was harsh. "You've only had your own tiny existence to deal with. Wait until you have two others and no one but yourself to rely on." The look he cast Harry over his shoulder sent a shiver down Harry's spine. He hadn't believed he was capable of such a look, yet there it was, easily twisted onto the Unspeakable's face. "Where will your idealism and narrow understanding of real life get you then? You can't live in Hogwarts the rest of your life. Grow up, Harry."

Harry watched the bedroom door snap shut behind the older man. He stared, unseeing, at the bright room for a long time. It wasn't until the artificial light blended with the light of the rising sun that Harry lay back and drifted toward sleep.

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDDPPDPDPD**

Harry felt he had barely closed his eyes when he was awoken by a shouting match outside his door. He couldn't figure out what Tristan and Hayden were fighting about, but he suspected it was something completely inane. He gave up on sleep, dressed in the fresh clothes he found in the wardrobe, and was amazed at how well they fit. He wandered the house for some time before at last coming upon the dining room. He almost wished he hadn't – he could feel the hostility in the room from almost every occupant. He was relieved to find that his seat wasn't close to Unspeakable Harry's.

Cedric Potter never did make an appearance. Harry wondered what more there was to the father/son animosity. He glanced at Cedric's father. He realized that what he hadn't caught during last night's conversation was that the Unspeakable's feelings toward Cedric weren't hateful – they was suspicious. Harry gnawed at a bit of toast as he eyed the silent, broken man seated down the table. He didn't understand where the suspicion came from, but given the paranoia he sensed in the older man, Harry suspected it wouldn't take much to provoke such a reaction.

A tinkling laugh caught his attention, and he shifted his gaze to the slight brunette seated next to her father**. **Tristan was laughing** – **snickering, really – at something Dorian Weasley had said. She didn't seem to notice the tension in the air. Harry's chest ached as he thought about how used to enmity she must be by now. For most of her life, her father and brother had been set against each other. Harry wondered how much it had affected her – how much her father or brother bothered to notice.

Turned completely off his food, Harry pushed his plate away and took to examining the others.

Draco Malfoy was slouched in his chair across the table from Harry, occasionally stabbing at his food and muttering under his breath. Apart from looking as if he hadn't slept a wink, the seventh year's usually immaculate hair was hanging into his eyes and the top two buttons of his borrowed black robes were done up crooked. The blond looked up suddenly and caught Harry staring. Harry offered a scowl, Malfoy offered a sneer, and Harry forced himself to look away, his eyes roving the rest of the table.

They didn't travel far, catching on Blaise. She was seated one up the table from Malfoy, her expression fierce. Unlike Malfoy, she hadn't bothered with food. Harry looked away. He wasn't quite ready to examine her too closely.

Ginny was sitting on Blaise's other side, speaking to Mrs. Malfoy. Though she seemed to be attending to the conversation, something in her eyes made Harry wonder if her thoughts were occupied by other things. She was eating, he was pleased to see (at the rate the rest of them were going, they'd starve to death and it wouldn't matter if they got home). He wondered if her thoughts were where his were.

Harry had never really allowed himself to think about the future. There had never been much of a point – what would come would come, just like Hagrid had told him back in his fourth year. The threat of Voldemort _was_ his future, at least in his present. His thoughts turned back to the Unspeakable across from him and he realized that having Voldemort behind him hadn't improved his life at all. Disgusted, Harry kept his eyes moving up the table.

Dorian Weasley and his father, seated close to the head of the table, were having an overloud discussion about Quidditch. This, Harry suspected, was the chief cause of Tristan's merriment. Harry felt a smile in spite of himself – Ron hadn't changed at all and it seemed his son was going to be just like him.

Hayden Malfoy, seated beside Dorian, didn't say much, but was obviously listening. He seemed to be hearing the conversation, but his eyes danced between Tristan and the seventh year version of his father.

The master of the house sat at the head of the table, nothing more than coolly amused by the chaos. His long blond hair was tied back at the base of his neck, his dark robes impeccably smooth. His free hand rested on the table, twined with his wife's. Harry made it a point not to judge appearances, but the Unspeakable Draco Malfoy looked far too much like his father for Harry's taste. All he was missing was a silver, serpent-tipped cane, and perhaps that light of malevolence that had haunted Lucius's eyes.

Harry tensed as Lucius Malfoy's face rose in his mind's eye. Dealing with that rotter at points in his school career had been almost as bad as his encounters with Voldemort.

Mrs. Malfoy's laugh shattered the image of her father-in-law. Harry looked up the table. The redhead appeared amused at something her husband was whispering in her ear. Her eyes were dancing and when she responded in an undertone, the Unspeakable laughed as well. Something about the brightness that laugh brought to the former Slytherin's eye made the association with Lucius Malfoy seem inappropriate. And though Harry knew his nose twitched at the unlikely sight of Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy sharing a smile, he could tell whatever his own issues in this future might be, Draco Malfoy was for for all intents and purposes a very happy man.

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDDPPDPDPD**

Draco Malfoy decided that he despised Ginny Weasley.

Strike that - he despised everyone, every single living being in the room, and the damned room. He despised the house, the land, the innocent woodland creatures living on the land, and the entire bloody world! He refused to consider that he was still smarting from the verbal lashing he'd received from his Unspeakable self the night before, though a reasonable part of him was impressed that he had grown into such an imposing bastard.

The thing Draco couldn't forgive the man for was the sacrilegious atrocity that was his marriage to Ginny Weasley.

Out of desperation, Draco had actually plucked up the courage to pull Mr. Malfoy aside before breakfast. Upon demanding of the older man what the hell he'd been thinking, the Unspeakable replied, "Lucius told me when I spoke of proposing to her that she wasn't the sort of girl one married. He said I'd do well to take what I needed and be done with her. I then told him she was carrying my child, and his reply made me realize just how much I hated him. To be honest, I didn't really love her then - or I did, but I was blind to it. I married her because I wanted my child to bear my name. I always planned to divorce her and retain custody of Hayden. But we got on well enough, time passed - and then one day something happened that made me realize what my life would be like without her."

"Oh, really?" Draco's lip was already curling in disgust. This level of fluff made his teeth ache.

The look on the Unspeakable's face became so chilling that Draco flinched. "No, I don't think I'll tell you," Mr. Malfoy said, his drawl so menacing that Draco had backed up a step. "It might - lack the proper impact if I told you now. Merlin knows you needed some sense shocked into you. Of course, now that you know to expect all this, who can say if it will even happen now?"

"If I have my way, none of this will be happening," he managed. He straightened, glowering at the Unspeakable. "None of it, understand?"

"We'll see," was all the man would say in return. He turned, smiled at Mrs. Malfoy, who was waiting patiently just out of hearing, and followed her into the dining room. Moments later, Draco heard her laugh.

"We'll see, all right," Draco was now muttering under his breath as he stabbed his fork in a piece of ham.

"I think it's sufficiently dead already," Blaise taunted in an undertone. Draco glanced at her, saw her sneer. He didn't have to wonder at why she was enjoying this debacle so much - he'd turned her down once too often and it was a nice taste of revenge, seeing him so unsettled.

"Get stuffed, Zabini," he hissed. "I'll show you dead," he added, stabbing the ham again. He just wanted to go home. Home was where Father was and though Draco had no love of him, the man surely could and would get him out of this mess. Marrying Ginny Weasley, for Merlin's sake! He gave his head a shake and threw his utensils down with a loud clatter. "Just let that time-hopping wizard show back up! This is all Potter's fault!" He was muttering under his breath and a part of him realized that if he'd been in his right mind, he'd have been concerned.

Ron Weasley snorted. "Thinks he handy with a wand, does he?" He and the Unspeakable Potter shared a grin.

At the end of his patience - and it had never been great – Draco's lip curled as he focused on this new annoyance. "Stuff it, old man, or I'll show you".

"Don't you talk to my dad like that, you bloodless little snake!" Dorian growled across the table, his fists clenching threateningly. He sent a sheepish look up at Mr. Malfoy. "Er, no offense, Uncle."

"None taken, boy," the Unspeakable returned, popping grilled tomato into his mouth.

"Where's Hermione, Ron?" Potter asked out of the blue. Draco snorted.

"She's at the Hollow with the kids. Littlest ones have got dragon pox from somewhere."

"Exactly how many kids do you two have?" Ginny spoke up. She was, Draco was quick to see, keeping her eyes on the head of the table.

Git Weasley, world populator extraordinare, grinned a roguish grin. "Five besides Ian here."

"Quick, somebody call an exterminator," Draco muttered into his plate. He glanced at the food, felt ill, and shoved it away. Merciful Zeus, get Weasley reproducing out of his head!

"Hayden,love, I think this would be a good time to show everyone the house. You could show them the new pitch," Mrs. Malfoy suggested, with a warning look down the table that Draco decided to ignore.

Hayden Malfoy, ever the dutiful son (_and there goes the gag reflex again_, Draco thought), laid his napkin down and stood up. "Sure, Mum."

"Why don't you get down on your hands and knees and lick the bottoms of her shoes while you're at it," Draco mumbled, sliding down in his seat.

"Pitch?" Ginny repeated, her eyebrows under her fringe. "Spoilt, much?"

"You shouldn't talk," Mr. Malfoy said. Draco watched the color rise in Ginny's cheeks as the Unspeakable smiled her way. "You were the one who talked me into letting him have one."

"You should have talked him into throwing himself off a bridge," Draco put in. Everyone ignored him.

Of course Potter's ears perked up at the mention of Quidditch. "Your own pitch? Really?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, the extra color fading from her cheeks. She put her napkin aside. "How can you lot even think about Quidditch at a time like this?"

"I play my best when I'm under pressure," Potter told her. He smirked in a maddening way at Draco. "Remember Malfoy pretending to be a Dementor?"

Ginny wasn't the only one who laughed.

"And you haven't seen Harry play professionally." Ron Weasley nudged the silent Unspeakable next to him with his elbow. "Remember your first World Cup, Harry? Fresh from Puddlemere United - England and Bulgaria - now that was a bloody brilliant game! There he was, four hours in, the Snitch was nowhere in sight, and Bulgaria was ahead by like, fifty points - "

"There he goes again," Mrs. Malfoy groaned. Draco had to take a moment to tear his eyes from her. She was older, but she was beautiful. It was impossible to believe she and the freckled Ginny Weasley were one and the same.

But he still despised her. Them.

"Ron, stop. Please." Mrs. Malfoy was rubbing her temples. "Not everyone enjoys a play-by-play of Harry's matches." She smiled at the Unspeakable Potter and Draco's stomach flip-flopped.

Weasley looked insulted as he turned toward his sister. "I don't judge your religion, do I? So anyway, like I was saying - "

_Huh_, Draco thought, sliding as far down in his chair as he could. _So this is hell_.

"I can't believe I play professional Quidditch." Potter sounded ready to jump up and down. Draco felt a twitch begin in his jaw. He focused on the chandelier above him as his spine went rigid.

"I really play for Puddlemere United? I played in a World Cup?"

Draco had never wanted to see something awful - and preferably painful - happen to anyone as much as he did Harry Potter.

"Oh, mate, it was brilliant!" Weasley said, no doubt with an uplifted expression on his face. "I always knew you would, Harry. Although I had hoped you'd sign with the Cannons - "

"The Cannons?" Draco exploded, dropping his eyes from chandelier. This was too much. He seized the opportunity to draw himself from his maddening thoughts. "The Chudley Cannons, you must be joking! Isn't their motto 'Let's keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best?'"

"Eh, you've done it now," Dorian sighed, inching away from his father.

Ron Weasley actually growled. Pathetic. "I'll have you know, Malfoy, the Chudley Cannons are making a rapid comeback - "

"Their last League win was in 1892!" Draco argued; not out of any great personal passion, just to be contrary. "They ought to have been kicked out by now! Face it, Weasley - they suck!"

"Why you - !"

Draco smirked. He had forgotten how easy it was to bait Weasley.

"I swear, Malfoy, if you don't shut up – " Potter looked irritable more than angry, but Draco figured he could change that.

"Oh - I'm paralyzed with fear. Grouchy Potter told me off. What's the matter, scar-head? Didn't get your morning wank in?" He lifted his eyebrows and grinned as Potter went dull red.

"I think this is the weirdest thing I've seen," Tristan's voice drifted down the table. "Since when is Uncle Draco such a complete bastard?"

"For once, I have to agree," Hayden said. His eyes darted between Draco and Potter. "And since when is Uncle Harry so ungodly patient?"

"Maybe this is where you lot get it from," Dorian shot at them. Draco had to admire the boy. He had a knack for saying just the thing to piss everyone right off. Tristan and Hayden were glaring at him.

"Shouldn't we be celebrating?" Dorian added with a wicked look that almost impressed Draco. "You two agreed on something not thirty second ago."

Tristan and Hayden began making various disgusted noises.

"That's it!" Mrs. Malfoy was on her feet, long finger pointing at the door. "Out - the lot of you!"

"I've not finished with my breakfast," Draco told her defiantly, turning his head to leer openly at her curves. She didn't look remotely impressed, which was irritating since Draco couldn't remember the last time he'd failed to impress with that look. Well, he could, but he certainly hadn't been trying to impress Ginny.

Still, Mrs. Malfoy was radiant when she was hacked off. He'd have to remember to anger her more often.

"Draco Malfoy, I'm absolutely fed up and disgusted listening to you. Get out!" He could see the Unspeakable in her now and if he hadn't been so intoxicated at the sight of her, he might have been intimidated.

"One can tell you've been a mother too long." He flashed a brief, insulting look at Mr. Malfoy. "In case you've forgotten, he'sthe Malfoy you've got the collar on."

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDDPPDPDPD**

"Ooooh." Dorian winced, promptly grabbed a handful of biscuits and scooting out of the dining room. Blaise, Tristan, Hayden, Ginny, and Harry were on his heels.

Ginny paused at the door, her heart thudding. She heard a thud.

"Draco, you can't kill him!" Mrs. Malfoy reasoned desperately.

"I'm not going to kill him, darling. I'm just going to rough him up a bit."

"Stop it! That is you you're pummeling. Psychologically, this can't be good for you. Oh!"

"Don't worry, I'll just see to it he has a healthy fear of acting a git. And an aversion to putting his foot in his mouth in future."

"Right, that'll help," Ginny heard Ron mutter.

"That's right, Malfoy." Unspeakable Harry's voice rang with amusement. "Show yourself who's boss."

Ginny thought she might be a bad person for laughing and quickly turned away to follow the others outside. Before she had taken more than a few steps, she heard Draco stumble into the hall behind her. She turned. He was leaning against the wall, cursing the air blue. He looked unharmed and Ginny figured Mr. Malfoy had gone for intimidation tactics, rather than actual damage.

"Wow, Malfoy." Ginny looked him over. All signs pointed to injured pride, she decided. "Quite a piece you'll turn out to be."

"You, too, little Weasel," he said, with a look up and down her body that made her feel exposed.

She folded her arms. "Actually, I pity you. You don't seem to have enough sense to keep your mouth shut. Also, even though you just got your arse handed to you in there, you probably haven't learnt a thing from it." Ginny widened her eyes. "Have you still got all your teeth?"

Suddenly, he was right in front of her. She took a smart step back and came up against a wall.

"Want to count for me, Weasel? So generous," he drawled, leaning close and opening his mouth in a grin that was almost a grimace.

Ginny's stomach twittered. "Er - yes, that's me, generous." Had Malfoy always been that tall?

"You know," he said softly, his lips brushing her ear, "I think you could help me with something. My lip does sting something awful." He placed his hands against the wall on either side of her head. "Want to make it better?" Very slowly, almost teasingly, he swept his lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

"Uh…"

"Ginny - you coming?" There was Harry calling, and Ginny actually jumped.

"Why go out just now?" Draco whispered, a persuasive edge to his silky voice. "Big house. I'm sure we could find something to pass the time in here."

Ginny made a breathless sound of distress as she stared up into hooded silver eyes. When had she suddenly become this susceptible to him? She'd had no trouble knocking him over the head back at Hogwarts. Now the only things she could think to say made her blush and made her think of begging.

"Gin?" Harry's voice again.

"We could have a lovely time, just the two of us," he went on, the hypnotic quality of his voice nearly making Ginny groan. "All this rot about the future. We don't have to be married, you know, to – "

Blinking back into herself, her hands curl into fists. "What did you say?"

"You know what I mean, _Ginny_." His eyes flickered down her robes. "Don't act like you don't - no one has to know – "

"You disgusting bastard!" Ginny slammed her foot down on his toes.

Malfoy swore and backed hastily away.

"If you ever suggest anything like that again, I will make sure you pay for it, Malfoy." The darkness in her voice came from a place she didn't recognize.

Apparently, it had some affect on Draco. He didn't say a word as she stalked away after the others. She didn't think he'd followed her, either.

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDDPPDPDPD**

"There you are, Ced! I wondered what had happened to you at breakfast," Tristan was calling to her brother as Ginny caught up to the others.

Cedric was just dismounting from his broom, and waved at her as they approached the stands.

"Oh, I can't imagine why he wasn't there," Blaise muttered. "Might it be that he wanted to avoid his father who can't stand the sight of him?"

Ginny watched as Tristan paused. She expected Harry's daughter to lash out, but instead she said coolly and without turning, "Well, I can see why Dad doesn't want _you _around. It's obvious we're all better off without you." She turned enough to look at Harry. "I really wouldn't blame you if you had nothing to do with her when you get back. Honestly, I don't see how you could bring yourself to touch her." She pushed her silver-framed glasses up on her small nose, flipped her dark hair in an exact imitation of Blaise, and set off across the field toward her brother.

Blaise was glowering after the girl with some emotion in her eyes that Ginny couldn't identify.

"She's upset," Harry offered. He was still a bit red – Ginny suspected it was from Draco's comment at breakfast.

Blaise rewarded the soft, hesitant words with a disdainful glare. Ginny resisted the urge to hex her.

"Yeah, Tristan doesn't mean it," Hayden added after a moment. "She says things like that all the time."

"What do I care?" Blaise snarled, though her lower lip trembled. "She's nothing - she's a mistake. All of this is just one big, bloody mistake!" She stormed back toward the house. Ginny could hear the door slam.

"Touchy bint," Dorian muttered, staring after her. Ginny glanced at Hayden. His eyes were wide and stayed fixed on the distance door of the house.

Abruptly, Harry went jogging off toward Tristan and Hayden. "Tristan, wait!" Ginny saw her turn and smile. She said something that made Harry's jaw relax and when she looped an arm through his and pulled him toward Cedric, Ginny's stomach began to unknot.

Dorian coughed. Ginny glanced at him. He smiled and offered her his arm. Then he looked at Hayden. Dropping his arm, he winked at Ginny and wandered over to the others.

"Let's go," Hayden said, offering Ginny his own arm. She took it immediately.

"You okay?" he asked her as they made their way over the grass.

Ginny sighed and squeezed her son's arm, feeling the unexpected need to comfort him. "I don't know how Zabini could say any of that," she murmured. "I guess she's right. I didn't expect any of this – but – none of you are a mistake, Hayden, I'm sure of it." She stared anxiously at him. "She doesn't know what the hell she's talking about."

"Are you saying you won't do things differently, knowing what you do now?" Hayden looked carefully down at her. She noticed that his eyes were darker gray than Draco's. "Are you saying you'd love my dad enough to have me, to marry him?"

Ginny dropped her eyes. How could she possibly imagine loving Draco Malfoy, the most narcissistic, unfeeling, unkind person she knew? "I - I don't know, Hayden," she began. She paused. "I mean, you have to admit, there's not much there to love yet. But what I've seen of myself and your father in this future…well, I wouldn't mind experiencing that kind of relationship. And I'm proud to know that I have such an amazing son." She smiled back up at him, and then laughed, shrugging away the last of her unease. "But then, I'm only sixteen. I was in love with your uncle Harry for years, but I never have been able to stomach Draco. What do I know? I guess that's why they call it the future."

"You were in love with Uncle Harry?" Hayden snorted. The cool morning wind tossed his hair across his high, smooth forehead and Ginny was suddenly charmed as he smiled at her. "Tristan was right, you know, as much as I hate to admit it. It is a miracle, us being here, when none of you can bloody stand each other."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Well…obviously Malfoy has to have some redeeming qualities – I'd never have married him otherwise. Right?"

Hayden arched dark blond brows in a way that reminded Ginny his father. "Maybe you need to have a long talk with my mum."

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDDPPDPDPD**

"You don't believe him, do you?"

Harry rubbed his scar, smoothed his fringe across it out of habit. "I'm not sure what to believe, Cedric." He had just finished telling the younger Potter about his late night visitor. He frowned. "I know he's been an absolute failure as a dad."

"Got that right. Mostly." Cedric leaned on his racing broom, which looked a little worse-for-wear from all of his travels. He stared at Harry impatiently through messy hair. "Listen, I know it's hard for you to understand what's going on here, but trust me. Dad's had too many years of secrets and war. He's paranoid and he's seeing enemies everywhere."

"What are you talking about? Are you telling me he's - I've - gone mad?"

"Maybe. Or just prematurely senile." Cedric's eyes were hard. Harry wondered if, like Harry, Cedric had been forced to grow up before his time.

"I admit, he's a bit darty-eyed and accusatory." Harry watched Tristan bolt by on a magnificent racing broom in the middle of a complicated, smoothly executed transverse Seeker's maneuver that had him distracted for a moment.

"You haven't been here," Cedric said, his voice low and persistent. "You haven't seen what he's like, sometimes."

"He reminded me of Dudley," Harry murmured, more to himself than to Cedric. "It's sick."

He was distracted again as Hayden Malfoy shot passed after Tristan, flying toward her too fast before standing up on his broom and somersaulting over her. His broom sailed under her and he landed safely back on it in front of her. She called him something quite vile that made him shout with laughter.

"Dad wasn't always like this," Cedric conceded. "Just since mum…disappeared."

Harry tried to turn his attention back to Cedric, but was again sidetracked by Hayden and Tristan, who had stopped their chase and wereengaged in an argument as they floated high above the pitch on their brooms, their forms silhouetted against the darkening sky. They'd have to go in soon - it looked ready to storm. "You really think your mum was taken?" he asked Cedric after a moment, forcing himself to ignore the argument.

"She wouldn't have just left us like that. She loved us. Like you can't imagine."

Yesterday, Harry would have found it hard to believe Blaise could love anyone. After the way she'd acted only minutes ago, it seemed suddenly a whole lot more likely.

"I don't care how long it takes," Cedric was saying. "I'm going to find her. Or, at least, find out what happened to her."

Dorian Weasley's fiery red head appeared over Cedric's shoulder and saved Harry having to answer.

The boy was hovering upside down on his broom, a hopeful look on his face. "Hullo, nice to see you - how about a match?"

Harry shook his head. He wished he could lose himself in something as easy as Quidditch. In fact, he'd rather be facing down the entire Slytherin team on his own than be stuck in the mess he'd willingly jumped into.

"Sorry, Ian." Cedric beat Harry to his refusal, hauling his broom onto his shoulder in a practiced move. "I'm out - I'm gonna head back to the house and grab a few winks. I promised Aunt Gin I'd put in a peace-keeping appearance at supper and I'll need all my strength." He winked at Dorian, nodded at Harry, and turned to go.

Dorian made a sound of disappointment, but turned upright and flew off to see if he could pull Hayden and Tristan's claws out of each other's throats.

Meanwhile, Harry watched his son walk unhurriedly away across the pitch with his head down. Harry thought his son made a very lonely figure, faintly outlined against the trees and the cold, swirling gray of the sky. He didn't turn as Ginny appeared beside him, her eyes also on Cedric. She didn't bother with the pretense that she hadn't heard a word of what they'd said, and he had to respect her for that.

"Do you think he's right about Zabini, Harry?" she asked as Cedric disappeared into the house.

"I don't know." Taking a deep breath of the cool air, he looked up just as the first rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.

"Something's not right here. Well, beyond the obvious. I mean the whole situation with Zabini – Tristan and Cedric's mum. I think we need to talk to Malfoy."

"The Unspeakable, you mean?" A funny look crossed Ginny's face. "Maybe it is time to head in. Although the rain might cool those two down," she added dryly, waving a hand at the teens shouting at each other above the pitch.

Lightning suddenly split the sky and they looked up in alarm.

Harry opened his mouth to yell for Hayden and Tristan to come down when Hayden went stiff, looking over Tristan's shoulder. His eyes widened and he pointed. Tristan turned on her broom, shaking her hair out of her eyes. She gave a start, turned again and shouted something down to Harry, but whatever it was was drowned out by the rain and thunder.

"What is it? What's she saying?" Ginny shook her own wet hair from her face, and squinted through the rain. "Harry?"

Harry's glasses were fogging up, but he suddenly saw something that made his blood go cold.

A familiar figure shrouded in hooded red robes stood just before the tree line of the dark woods that surrounded the grounds. Another flash of lightning, and the figure was gone.

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDDPPDPDPD**

"He was there, I'm telling you! Red Robes was at the edge of the woods," Harry told the Unspeakables minutes later as he stood panting, dripping rain water on the carpet of Mr. Malfoy's study.

"I'm not doubting you, Harry. No, actually, I am." Mr. Malfoy reached up and tugged off the tie holding his hair back from his face. He ran a hand through it, narrowing his eyes. "You must understand – no one but a member of the Malfoy family can Apparate or Disapparate onto or away from these grounds, nor can anyone come or go from the grounds unless the wards are down, which they haven't been since your arrival. How could this Red Robes person have appeared and then disappeared so quickly? One moment he was there, the next – gone. Where did he go?"

"How the hell should I know?" Impatient and very cross, Harry turned on Malfoy, who was lounging in a wing-backed chair near the fire, and muttering to himself. "What are you on about, Malfoy?"

"Don't you have anything in your head bordering on a brain, Potter? It's obvious, isn't it? If you lot did actually see Red Robes, it's got to be one of us - somebody in this room. It could be him, for all we know." Malfoy threw a nasty look at the master of the house. "And it's got to be someone with Malfoy blood, like the old man said."

"Are you suggesting that a member of my family is trying to kill Hayden and Tristan?" Mr. Malfoy's eyes were steely, his voice dangerously quiet.

Malfoy gave him the first genuine look Harry had seen him give anyone since they arrived. It was cold, honest, and deadly serious. "Bad blood – all Malfoys have it."

Hayden, wrapped in a blanket provided by his mother, was shaking his head. "You're wrong. That's complete rot. There're only three Malfoys here, for Merlin's sakes - and it's obviously not me, or Mum and Dad. Unless I've done something lately to really hack you off, " he added, glancing at his father with a question smile.

The Unspeakable rolled his eyes. "As if you ever do anything that could displease me."

Dorian, sitting on th scrolled arm of a settee, cleared his throat uncomfortably, and raised his hand.

Ron sighed. "He's my son, and I love him dearly. What is it, Ian?"

The young redhead gulped, standing up and shooting a nervous look at Hayden. "Den, you remember the blood brothers thing we did?"

There was a short pause.

"Oh, bloody hell, Hayden," his father groaned. "I thought you had more sense than that!"

"Tell me you did this not knowing what it could mean," Mrs. Malfoy begged, her eyes moving between her son and nephew.

Hayden was looking pitiful and a little betrayed. "We did it when we were kids, honestly." He looked down at his feet. "Just a little cut on the finger was all. The knife was clean. We just - we just realized Ian could Apparate here because of it, by accident, last summer."

"It was all really blameless," Dorian added earnestly. He hesitated. "I don't know if it means anything - and I'm only saying this because I'll feel guilty if I don't." He glanced at Cedric, whose expression was unreadable. "Cedric and I became blood brothers, too…but it was years ago, like Hayden said. We were just playing around – "

"So it was you!" Malfoy cut him off, eyes narrowed as he drew his wand and took a pace towards Cedric. "You caused all this!"

Harry took a step towards him, hearing Ginny gasp. "Drop the wand, Malfoy!"

"Admit it!" the Slytherin snapped, ignoring him. "Whose idea was it to do that blood exchange? Surely, Bumpkin Weasley is much younger than you, Potter. And isn't it a little convenient that you turn up here because you heard your precious sister was in town. You got onto the grounds even though the wards went up as soon as we got here."

Cedric was up now, too, his eyes burning. "Ian got the blood brother's spell from a book. I was fifteen and thought it was a good joke. And last night, I was here before you all arrived, before the wards went up. And why in Merlin's name would I kill one of my best friends and my own sister? Your logic is flawed, Malfoy."

"Maybe you did – who knows for sure when you actually arrived?" Malfoy shrugged, his wand still out.

Cedric's shoulders were tense, but he didn't respond. He also hadn't drawn his wand.

"This is ridiculous," Tristan snapped. "Cedric hasn't been trying to kill anyone!" She crossed to her brother and accepted the arm he wrapped around her shoulders. He kissed her temple, ignoring the looks of his father and Malfoy.

"Is it so ridiculous?" The former eyed his children. Tristan winced. Cedric met the Unspeakable's hard stare with an identical one and tightened his arm around his sister.

"I told you he was paranoid, Harry," Cedric shot back, addressing the seventh year, though his eyes remained on his father. "He'll be accusing you next."

"Everyone stop!" both Ginnys shouted. They looked at each other, and then rolled their eyes.

"Okay," the seventh year said after a deep breath. "You," she said, poking a finger in Cedric's direction, "are giving me the creeps!"

"Beg your pardon," he began indignantly. Tristan squeezed his arm.

"And you," she turned on his father, "aren't exactly above suspicion either. Walking around here all broody and ill-tempered. It could be anybody, like Malfoy said before. It could be me!"

Everyone stared at her.

"Okay, probably not me, but – stop throwing blame around. It's not helping."

"She's right," Mrs. Malfoy said. "Harry, please. You're the adult – act like it."

The words seemed to hit the Unspeakable with force. He turned his back on the room and moved to the nearest window. His eyes were almost black, Harry saw, and his knuckles were white where they gripped his elbows. Harry glanced at Tristan. She grimaced, her breath catching as she exhaled. Then she cleared her throat, set her shoulders, and turned her back on him.

"Ced, I asked you not to pick fights in my house," Mrs. Malfoy was saying. Her voice was gentle. "Didn't I?"

"Sorry, Aunt," he muttered. Tristan glared at her godmother. Cedric ruffled her hair. "And I believe Miss Weasley was trying to make a point earlier?"

"I'm sorry – were you, love?" Mr. Malfoy's eyes flashed in Ginny's direction with a mischievous twinkle.

Ginny blushed. "My, yes, my point. We shouldn't jump to conclusions or form a lynch mob. We should be concentrating on finding out who Red Robes is, based on whatever solid evidence we can scrape together. In case you've all forgotten, nothing about magic is absolutely full-proof."

"She's right; who knows what kind of dark magic is at work here," Harry agreed, thinking about his scar, his mother's protection – he wouldn't be alive if magic were predictable.

"The wards around my grounds are full-proof," Mr. Malfoy answered testily. He glared at Ginny. Far from looking intimidated, Harry thought she looked allured. "What kind of mediocre, trifling wizard do you take me for, Ginevra?"

The Ginevra in question was still red, but she gave the Unspeakable an unimpressed look. "Forgive me, Malfoy. Your ego isn't the issue."

Mrs. Malfoy laughed. She tried to stifle it in her sleeve, but he heard and turned a pitiful look on her. She shrugged. "She's going to be a magnificent wife someday, Draco."

"You have complete control over the wards surrounding this place, don't you?" Harry asked the Unspeakable Malfoy, ignoring the small dispute. "I mean, you can pull them up and down whenever you want?"

The Unspeakable shook his head. "Yes, it's true that I can, and I can see right now where you're going with that. Please explain to me why I would want to off my heir or my wife's goddaughter." His expression was dangerous and Harry paused, realizing the thin ice he was on.

"Where is Dumbledore when you need him?" Ginny burst out. She had turned her attention to a window and was glaring out into the storm.

"That's it! Dumbledore!"Harry took a deep breath, his whole body relaxing."He can help us! Why didn't I think of it before?" He looked around. Ginny and, to his surprise, Blaise and Malfoy, were actually looking hopeful. Then Harry noticed the Unspeakables. They were all shaking their heads.

"No one's seen Dumbledore in years, Harry," Ron said at last. "I'm not even sure the old man's still alive."

Harry's heart sank. He glanced at Ginny. Her head was bowed. "Not even anyone in the Unspeakables?"

"Not even us."

Mr. Malfoy rubbed his temples. His wife drew up behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders. When at last he spoke, his voice was low.

"There was some talk, but it's all a load if you ask me." He hesitated.

"Where?" Ginny demanded.

The Unspeakable took a deep breath. "Avalon."

"Avalon - but it doesn't exist." Harry remembered reading about Avalon, both in the Muggle world and at Hogwarts. The legends, the myths, King Arthur, the Holy Grail ...

"It's a legend. Absolute bollocks." The Unspeakable Harry had turned from the window and was glaring at Mr. Malfoy. "Even if it were true, legend and history have been so diluted that you'd never even find a place to start."

"We have to try." Harry set his jaw, his eyes meeting the older man's. The Unspeakable had the same look he'd had when Harry had accused him of mistreating his children. It was a look that said that he pitied Harry and wished he'd stop wasting everyone's time.

"He's right," Tristan spoke up. She stood up and moved to stand beside Harry, giving him a faint smile. "If there's any hope of fixing this mess, we have to find Dumbledore." She looked at her father. "Dad, you've told us a hundred times how powerful and wise Dumbledore is. If there's even a fool's hope he's alive – "

"I'm with Harry," Ginny agreed, standing tall on his other side. "What do we have to lose?"

A series of looks passed between the Unspeakables. At last, Ron spoke. "All right, fine. Let's do it."

Harry grinned at his friend. "I need an owl."

**PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDDPPDPDPD**

_TBC_


	6. In Which There Is An Escape

_A/N: This chapter was ridiculously complicated and didn't make much sense at all. I don't know what I was thinking. Hopefully, it's a little less totally pathetic after a thorough going-over!_

Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good…(of course it's not ours!)

_In a world full of people_

_Only some want to fly_

_Isn't that crazy?_

_-_ Seal

**)PvsM(**

Supper that evening was even more unpleasant than breakfast. Cedric made the promised appearance, but it was debatable whether or not his presence was an improvement. Unspeakable Harry spent the meal glaring with all possible suspicion at his son, who in turn chatted with forced nonchalance to his sister. He didn't once turn to look at his father. Tristan seemed happy to talk with her brother, but obviously sensed the tension. When a lull occurred in her conversation with Cedric, she bowed her head and didn't touch her plate.

Ginny's nerves were on end. Seated between dour Blaise and mutinous Draco, she hadn't a hope of proper conversation. The only person she felt safe discussing anything with was as far away from her as it was possible to be. In all fairness, Harry wasn't looking much better than Ginny was. He was between the Weasleys, one of whom chatted amicably with Mr. Malfoy while the other argued cheerfully with Malfoy's son. Harry's head was in his hand, although he was clearly trying to listen to Ron and Mr. Malfoy's conversation about exceptions to the Unforgivable Curse law. Occasionally, Harry would poke something into his mouth, but mostly he prodded his food into a mess with his fork.

"Pine, pine away, Weasley." The voice in Ginny's ear made her jump. Draco's drawl grated on her nerves and sent tingles down her spine.

"What're you on about?" she muttered, pretending to be interested in the argument that had just erupted at Tristan and Hayden's end of the table. She couldn't help rolling her eyes. "Honestly, you'd think someone would separate them," she mumbled into her soup.

"What would be the fun in a little peace and quiet for a change?" Blaise unconsciously mimicked Harry by mashing all her food around her plate. Ginny ignored her, but found it harder to ignore Draco – she could feel his eyes on her as she tried to return to pretending to eat.

"Yes, is there something you want?" she snapped irritably several minutes later when she could no longer ignore his gaze. He grinned fierily and Ginny swallowed hard. Why, oh, why couldn't she be sitting with Harry? At last she didn't have to worry about him .... well, _insinuating_ all the time.

"Something I want." Ginny was sure no one else could hear him, his voice a soft caress. "Is that an offer, Weasley?"

"Leave me alone, you slimy ferret," she gasped, unable to tear her eyes from his. He seemed awfully close, all of a sudden ...

"Malfoy, stop breathing on my sister!" Ron snapped from his seat between the two Harrys.

"Actually, Weasel, I think you'll find _she's_ breathing on _me_," he returned, leaning back in his chair without taking his eyes off Ginny. She felt hypnotized, trapped by a snake.

"You always knew just what to say, dear."

Ginny tore her eyes away at last and saw Mrs. Malfoy eying her husband with amusement.

"How can you stand him?" Ginny demanded, glowering at her. "God, he's like a leech."

"You are vile, Weasley." Draco's lip curled. "Disgusting little mind you've got in there."

"I take it back – a parasite!" Ginny didn't feel the pull of his eyes this time as she scowled at him.

"You know, I often wonder why I bother with him," Mrs. Malfoy said thoughtfully. "Could be the money – "

" – could be the libido," Mr. Malfoy pointed out. He looked nothing more than coolly amused.

"Sweet baby Jesus, shut up, Dad!" Hayden wailed.

"It's sweet!" Tristan smirked at her godbrother. "Just because you wouldn't recognize love if it bit you on the – anyway. I still don't see how you two could possibly have ever been like that, Uncle Draco, Aunt Gin." She waved a hand down the table at Ginny and Draco.

"You can't still have a crush on my dad." Hayden sneered at her. "It's tragic. Oh, but look, it's your lucky day. There's one your size right down the table."

Tristan's fist was halfway to his face before her brother, seated on her other side, caught it.

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch, little girl," Cedric advised kindly, rubbing her hand until her fingers uncurled. "If there's duffing to be done, leave it to the big boys."

"I'm not child, Ced – " she began, and the fierce look on her face made Ginny smile. She looked just like Harry.

"Could have fooled me." Blaise's voice was so quiet that only Ginny heard.

"What's the matter with you?" Ginny hissed. "I'd think you'd be proud or whatever. She's your daughter."

"And this is _your_ perfect Gryffindor future." Blaise snapped, her voice still low. "This, for me, is a personal hell."

"Oh, please. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm married to the high king of all prats," Ginny pointed out. "If that looks to you like my ideal future, you're mad." She glanced at the blond beside her, who was into the muttering and mutilating his food routine again. "God, he can't even eat properly. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Blaise made a funny choking noise and Ginny turned back to find her fighting a smile. She looked Ginny over, made another funny choking noise. "I just don't know about you, Weasley," she said at last, her voice unreadable.

"What do you mean?"

"Dunno." The Slytherin shrugged, the hard edge slipping back in her voice, as though she'd been caught doing something inappropriate. "Guess you've surprised me is all."

"At your service," was all she could think to say. Inwardly, she balked. A minute ago, Blaise was tearing into everyone. Suddenly, she wasn't quite complimenting Ginny. At this rate, Zabini might even become bearable someday.

"Who're you servicing, Weaslette?" Apparently Draco had been paying attention.

Ginny felt her face go warm and sank down in her chair. This was going to be a _long_ meal.

**)PvsM(**

When at last Mrs. Malfoy couldn't bare the bickering a second longer, she threw them all out and sent them straight to bed. Draco had argued at first, but when Mr. Malfoy pointed out that Draco could sleep inside or out on the front steps, Draco went, swearing all the way. Ginny practically ran to her own bedroom, slamming the door and bolting it before Draco could start harassing her again.

Crossing to her bed, she collapsed onto it, so tired that she was tempted to sleep in her robes. The prospect of discomfort wasn't appealing enough, however, and with a reluctant grunt, she got up and began pulling off her clothes. A set of pajamas had been placed near her pillow. She pulled on the long trousers, but when she got a good look at the top, she hesitated. It had to be Tristan's but it looked like it might fit a seven-year-old.

Muttering darkly to herself, she pulled the top over her head. The thing was so tight that it felt like a second skin. Typical Tristan, if Hayden and Dorian were to be believed.

Ginny jumped as a soft tap came from the door.

"Coming!" Praying to every deity she had ever studied in History of Magic that her visitor wasn't Draco, Ginny opened the door.

"Hey." Tristan Potter smiled at her. Her own outfit confirmed Ginny's suspicion that she was wearing Tristan's clothes – the Slytherin was dressed in an tight half tee with a broom and Snitch sitting stationary across the chest and almost non-existent shorts with grinning Quidditch stars flying across them.

"Hi." Well, at least it wasn't bloody Malfoy. "Is, er – is something up?"

Tristan hesitated.

"Um – Harry and Dorian and I wanted to talk, is all," and Ginny noticed the two boys standing behind her.

"It's about Dumbledore, Gin," Harry told her. Ginny felt her heart skip a beat. He'd been thinking the same thing she had.

"Right," Ginny nodded. "Lemme just – er, Tristan, do you have a jumper or something I can borrow?"

"Whatever for?" Tristan looked surprised. "It's sweltering! Ced likes the place kept warm, so usually every fireplace is blazing when he's here."

"Well – " Ginny felt herself blush, but plowed recklessly on. "It's this shirt – " She plucked helplessly at it and didn't dare look at Harry.

"It does look fabulous on you," Tristan said. "You don't wear stuff like this now and it's a waste. You've got a wicked figure."

"I say Amen to that," Dorian added in what he probably thought was an encouraging way. Tristy rolled her eyes.

"Ian, don't hit on your aunt," she ordered, not even deigning to looking at him.

"Come on, Gin," Harry put in. He studied her a moment, then smirked. "Don't worry. We'll protect you from Malfoy."

To her dismay, Ginny felt her face warm. "Shut up, Potter."

"Come on." Dorian took one arm and Harry the other and frog-marched her out of her room. "Where to, Tristy?" Dorian asked.

"The lounge. Reckon it's empty."

They followed her through a twisting maze of passages that led into the same lounge Ginny and Cedric had used the night before. Ginny untangled her arms from Harry and Dorian and took a seat in a large armchair, tucking her legs under her.

"So what're we going to do about Dumbledore?" she asked the room at large.

"Well, I owled our letter after supper." Harry, seated on a sofa with Tristan, sighed, pushing his long fingers through his unruly curls. "I didn't really know what to say, and I had to be careful in case the owl gets intercepted, so the message was pretty vague."

"I doubt he'll even get it," Tristan said. Her eyebrows pulled together. "A lot of people have tried to contact him over the years, but no one's had any luck. I know Snape has, I think even my dad once tried. Nothing."

"But we've got to find him," Ginny murmured, resting her chin on her hand. "He's the only person who'd help us – let alone give us the benefit of the doubt and not throw us bum first into Azkaban."

"We know." Dorian's eyes glinted in the flickering firelight. "We discussed it while we were coming to get you."

"And?"

"There's only one way we're going to find him."

"And that is?"

Dorian hesitated. Harry broke in.

"First of all, can we be one hundred percent sure that, of the four of us in the room, we're all seriously committed to this?" he asked. "Because what we're planning is going to be hard and there'll be a world of hurt if we're caught."

"Make that five." They all jumped. Cedric stepped out from behind the door they'd just come through. Harry glanced around at the others.

"Ced's in," Tristan murmured, her eyes fixed on her brother. "Of everyone in this house, he's the one who – well, he's in."

"Fine – the five of us, then?" Harry put the question again, brows raised. It was Tristan who acted first. Getting to her feet, she crossed to Harry and knelt at his feet.

"I'm in," she said softly, gazing into his eyes. "I don't want to die, but it's not just me. Any one of you could get hurt if Red Robes keeps running around and – " She swallowed. "My dad has issues now, but at least I have him. If anything happened to you ..." She trailed off, resting her forehead against his knees.

Ginny glanced at Harry. His expression was unreadable. Slowly, he reached out a hand and rested it on her tangled hair. When she lifted her face, he smiled.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Tristan returned the smile, an almost identical curl of her lips. "I'm going to make sure you don't." She squeezed his hands before moving to sit with her brother. Cedric met Harry's gaze, frowned, and said slowly, "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for _her_. Nothing, _nothing_ is going to happen to my little girl." He put his arm around Tristan, who leaned comfortably into him.

"All right." Harry nodded. Ginny couldn't see his disappointment, but she could feel it. She hoped the whole episode would make a change between father and son. He shook his head, his eyes returning to Ginny. "What about it, Gin?"

"Hey, I've got as much to lose doing nothing as you do," she pointed out. "Anyway," she added, her chest suddenly tight, "I don't want – I can't let anything happen to Hayden."

"I know," Harry told her. She knew he did.

They both looked at Dorian.

"Ready for my two sickles worth?" Dorian teased good-naturedly. "All right, here's the cake. I love Tris and Hayden like they were my sister and brother, right? We grew up together and I want nothing more than to see them get married. I have a whole scheme where I'm godfather to their fifty kids." Tristan turned bright red, her brother growled at Dorian to shut up, and Ginny and Harry laughed. "All I'm saying is, if I'm there, I can be sure they're safe. Same as the rest of you." He paused. "And Ced's my blood brother," he finished. "Anything happens to him, I can't live with myself."

"You're coming along to protect me?" Cedric demanded, looking mortally offended.

"Sure, you're all tough. I get that." Dorian beamed at him. "Who gets the tough guy's back? That's me."

"Well, Harry?" Ginny asked. "We all in?"

"I'm convinced," Harry agreed. "So – here's the plan." He took a deep breath. "We're going to find Avalon."

Ginny and Cedric stared at him. Cedric found his voice first. "Are you mad?" he demanded, both astonished and hopeful.

"We're here, aren't we?" Harry shrugged carelessly. Ginny didn't buy it, not for a minute. He had to know what he was suggesting was insane.

"But – Harry – no one knows where Avalon is, or if Dumbledore's there, or if it even exists," Ginny breathed, slumping back in her chair. "We wouldn't even know where to start."

"Oh, it's not as bad as all that," Dorian assured her. "Thanks to common report and some eavesdropping I did several years ago, we've got the towns where Dumbledore was last seen. We've also got the legend of Avalon, which is supposed to be a kind of riddley guide thing. And Ced, you're the best damn tracker out there these days. If anyone can find a legendary temple, you can." Dorian turned playful eyes on his friend. "If you're up to it, mate."

"Don't take the piss, Ian, this is serious." Cedric's eyes were dark, her brow pinched in thought. "What you're suggesting – it's not going to come cheap."

"Well, it's not like we can't scrounge up a few Galleons around this place." Ginny frowned at him, waving her hand.

"No, that's not what I mean." Cedric turned his sapphire eyes on her. "We're in a house full of Unspeakables. We all disappear, it would be a matter of minutes, maybe a half-hour before Dad and Uncle Ron and company are on our tails. They track faster than anyone – much faster than bloody me! We'll have to use every ounce of brain we've got between us to work up a plan."

"Already started, big brother," Tristan said soothingly. "Have a little faith."

Cedric settled into the sofa, crossing his arms. "Fine," he ground out, glaring at his sister. "What's your brilliant plan?"

"First," she said coolly, "we don't touch our wands or brooms."

"What?" Ginny shivered. She hadn't been without her wand in years.

"She's right," Harry agreed. "If we're off the beaten track and using spells, they'd track us in minutes. If we fly, we cover a lot of ground and the second they guess where we're headed, they head us off. Too easy to trace, both ways. Plus the fact that Avalon – as the legend goes – is only accessible by foot."

"Don't worry," Dorian added, seeing Ginny's apprehensive expression. "We'll have our wands and brooms, for emergencies. We'll just tuck them away most times so we're not tempted."

"Good idea to stow the brooms as well." Cedric squinted. Clearly, he thought the plan so far was quite good. "The Unspeakables will assume we've flown and try to track us that way. They'll get way the hell ahead of us and we'll have plenty of time to get lost enough in the woods that they'll have to start the trace over again at the beginning. Buys us a couple days."

"And there's the advantage of them not being absolutely sure what we're gone for," Ginny conceded. "They might suspect, but they can't know."

"We'll leave them a note, so they don't think our friend in red's got us," Tristan insisted. "I'll write it in Mum and Dad's secret code."

"How do you know it? I thought it was just their thing." Cedric stared incredulously at his sister.

"You're not the only one with a brain, Cedric." Tristan drew herself up to her full height – comical, given that she was sitting down. "The first year you were off at Hogwarts, I was lonely. I found Mum's letter she'd written to Daddy and started working out the code from what I knew about what had happened. It was fun."

"You're brilliant, Tris." Dorian grinned at her. "And, I might add, a knock-out in that top."

"Why thank you," Tristan said, taking a seated bow.

Cedric snorted.

"So when're we leaving?" Ginny asked.

"As soon as we can pull everything together," Cedric answered. "We'll have to bring what we can carry and pack up about five minutes before we go. It'll be hard to do this without them or any house elves noticing."

"And we can't go at night," Tristan pointed out. "The wards are always up from dusk till dawn. They keep anything from getting in or out."

"So we'll head out right after lunch a week from now." Cedric spoke with finality. His expression made it look as though he were visually the entire scheme in his mind's eye.

"How?" Harry asked curiously. "Won't it be a bit obvious if five of us come tramping through the living room with heavy rucksacks and broomsticks and try to claim we're just off for a stroll in the woods?"

Tristan giggled.

"I've got a few tricks up my sleeve." Cedric looked offended. "I used to sneak out all the time. Grandpa James' old cloak will help, for a start."

"I've still got it? Now, I mean, after all this time?" Harry looked sheepish at their surprised glances. "Well, after all the close calls in the past I'd have assumed I would have lost it or destroyed it by now."

"Nope, it's somewhere in Dad's room," Tristan assured him. "It'll be a trick getting in without him noticing. Think I'll have to go. I sometimes sleep with Daddy still when I have nightmares. I can look tonight, probably."

"Excellent." Cedric nodded, obviously fitting another piece of the plan into place in his head.

"But that thing won't fit all five of us," Harry pointed out. "It barely fit Ron, Mione, and I when we were kids."

"We'll have to do it in groups, then," Ginny said, suddenly wanting to help in any way she could. "Maybe, if we go through one of our bedroom windows in pairs and hide on the perimeter of the woods or something."

"Yeah." Dorian looked excited. "The first two go and wait just inside the trees, then the next two summon the cloak back and do the same thing. Then the last person summons it and closes the window behind him and we're good to go."

"Our only problem being that we have to get all our stuff into that one person's room and get everyone out without getting caught." Ginny realized she was beginning to see the plan in her own mind as well.

"Oh, Ian, I've got it!" Tristan's eyes brightened. "The map!"

"Why didn't I think of that?" Dorian looked like he could have kicked himself.

"Map?" Harry leaned forward, intrigued.

"The summer before Tristy, Hayden and I to start at Hogwarts, Uncle Harry gave us the Marauder's Map," Dorian explained. "We were buzzed until we realized it only worked for the Hogwarts grounds."

"We – er – we were a little disappointed, you see," Tristan continued slowly. She was watching Harry carefully. "We thought it was cool, but imagine a map that could give you the same tools for any area of land you wanted!"

"What did you do?" Harry was starting to grin. Tristan looked relieved.

"We modified the map to do what we wanted it to," she explained. "We had a time of it convincing Uncle Sirius to help us, but in the end he couldn't resist. Called in Uncle Remus as well. We worked on it all summer and finally got it right. Now you use 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,' but you tack on a catch phrase and the map can show any area the size of Hogwarts. It still shows every person within that area."

Dorian sighed dramatically. "It's the only thing we can still use together without Tristy and Hayden jumping down each other's throats."

"Our parents don't know about it, either," Tristan went on hastily, with a guilty look at her friend. "I mean, Dad gave us the map originally, but he doesn't know we did all this to it. Uncle Sirius doesn't think he'd like it if he knew, especially now he's so worried about me all the time. If Uncle Ron or Daddy knew we had it – although I reckon Uncle Draco'd be green that we had something this cool – "

"Draco!" Ginny suddenly breathed, her eyes going wide as a shadowy figure stepped through the door.

"_Weasley_." The silky drawl washed over Ginny and she shivered. The others jumped as Draco, Blaise on his heels, stepped into the room, followed closely by Hayden. Draco's wand was out, and his languid smirk made Ginny want to scratch his eyes out with a spoon.

"Nice little party you've got here," Blaise put in, dark eyes wandering over the group. "Real shame we weren't invited."

"Real shame." Hayden looked mutinous. He glanced at Dorian and Cedric. "When exactly were you going to let me in on your little secret?"

"They hit a nerve, Malfoy?" Tristan's green eyes narrowed. "Hacked off that they trust me more than you? Me, a _Slytherin_." Ginny rolled her eyes. Now was definitely not the time to take the mickey out of Hayden. If he told his parents – or _Harry_ –

"Look," Ginny said, on her feet and thinking fast. "What I was about to say is that we have to bring you lot along as well."

"Oh, really?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"She's right," Harry agreed, standing up beside her. Blaise's eyes narrowed. "How much have you heard?"

"Enough," Hayden said shortly. "We know you're going to Avalon to find Dumbledore."

"And I'm still not clear why we have to be there," Blaise put in, hell-bent on getting her own say in. "This idiot plan involves dodging Unspeakables, finding a place that doesn't exist, and running from a murderer." Her voice rose with each word. "I know you're Gryffindors, I know it's hard, but _think,_ just for a second, about what you're saying. I'm not going on some chase that'll land us all in Azkaban, just so Potter can look like a hero to everyone and save the day _again_. So you lot have a nice time and when you're in Azkaban, think of me."

It must have been as shocking to Blaise as it was to Ginny and the rest that she was suddenly poked in the nose by a wand.

"Oh, you're coming," Tristan told her, venom in her voice. "You're coming because you're not going to foul us up. I don't care if you're a wimp. In fact," she added, wand arm steady as she laughed humorlessly. "I don't care if Ced and I never exist. It's you should be locked up. If you weren't such an lying, cheating _coward_, then none of this might have happened because you wouldn't have left with some sodding traitor friend of my dad's and broken his heart!" Tristan's eyes burned green, so much like her father's, and though she was shaking, her wand arm was steady.

Blaise stared back at her without a word. Ginny wondered if it was the first time Blaise had ever been speechless. No one else really knew what to say, either.

"That's my wand," Blaise said at last, her husky voice cutting the heavy silence. She pointed at the object in Tristan's hand. Ginny hadn't noticed it until now, but it was the most bizarre wand she'd ever seen. It was white stone, Ginny realized. Twined around the central rod were two snakes. Just below where the snakes' tails ended – about halfway down the wand, which was a good thirteen inches long – were a small set of wings.

"Yeah, that's right." Tristan smiled darkly. "You gave it to Dad to give to my before you skived off. He told me he would have destroyed it, but a Caduceus is a powerful tool."

"A Cada-what?" Harry piped up, leaning closer.

"A Caduceus," Blaise supplied, staring at the one trained on her. "The original belonged to the god Hermes. His brother gave it to him. The story goes that Hermes happened to come across a pair of angry snakes. He stuck his wand between them and they instantly became friends. Then, for some reason, they coiled around his wand and became friends forever. The wings were added during the middle ages to represent Hermes swift movement from place to place."

"Er – yeah." Tristan looked a bit deflated.

"Um – so about Avalon," Ginny ventured.

Tristan reluctantly put away her wand and returned to sit by her brother. "You're coming with us," she repeated, waving at Blaise, Draco, and Hayden.

"I suppose we can't _make_ you come," Cedric put in, addressing the three new companions.

"Since I'm a really cool bloke, I'll pretend that you were planning on telling me all along," Hayden said placidly. Dorian nodded eagerly at him. "I'm in." Tristan groaned and her brother nudged her ankle with his toe.

"So what about you two?" Ginny asked, turning apprehensively back at Draco and Blaise. To everyone's surprise, Blaise spoke first.

"What choice do we have?" Blaise demanded. "We're going to be threatened and kicked around no matter where we are." She glared at Draco. "And forgive me, the last thing I want is to be stuck in this place with Mr. Ego, here."

Draco growled, muttering something under his breath.

"How about it, Malfoy?" Ginny asked, turning to the final person. "In or out?"

"Are you mad?" Draco snapped, glaring at everyone. "What sodding choice do I have? Let's see – stay here with more than one person keen on offing me; or go with you and possibly get caught and thrown in prison."

"Fine," Harry spat. "Don't come. We're better off without you. If you get us all thrown in prison, I will make sure one of those Unspeakables knows you let us go." He turned back to the others. "All right. Let's use my room since it's on the first floor and faces the woods. We can smuggle our stuff down the day before using the map and a communicator charm."

"Or," Hayden said slowly, "we could use the walkie-talkies."

"You have walkie-talkies?" Harry said slowly.

"I don't want to talk about it," Hayden muttered.

"We should move all our stuff at night," Dorian pointed out. "Cover of darkness and all that. Hayden's room's at the top of the stairs, so we'll have to go from there."

"Yeah, except Uncle Draco's a night owl," Cedric put in. "He could be out wandering."

"That's what the map's for. We can also use the Invisibility Cloak and that should be fine," Harry countered.

"For now, though, I'm beat." Cedric stood and stretched, his muscles tight under his shirt. Ginny tried to remind herself she was, for all intents and purposes, his aunt. "Bed, everyone."

Ginny was glad for a chance to be alone. She followed Harry from the room, ignoring the appraising look Draco was giving her top. She said goodnight to Harry on the first floor and continued up the stairs to her room. She was almost to the door when a hand shot out of the darkness to grip her arm. She squealed.

"Shut up, Weasley!" Draco's voice was harsh, but quiet.

"What do you want?" Ginny snapped, wrenching her arm out of his grasp. In the dancing moonlight, she could see his exhaustion, his weariness, and the first light of hopelessness she'd ever seen in his eyes. The look made her heart skip a beat.

"I need you to tell me honestly," he said, reaching out to grip her arm again. "No sarcasm – no sympathy."

"Okay." Ginny studied the circles under his eyes, the pallor of his face. When he finally spoke, she could hardly hear him.

"Should I come?" he whispered, not meeting her eyes.

"What?" She learned closer.

"Should I bloody well come with you lot when you go to find the crazy old man?" he repeated impatiently, still not looking at her.

Ginny didn't speak for a long moment. Draco looked uncharacteristically anxious; brow furrowed, shoulders tense. She thought about his nasty comments over the last few days. The taunting, the come-ons, the careless attitude toward everyone.

Draco was scared. This wasn't a situation where his money or quick wits could save him and he was unprepared to deal in a rational, heuristic manner with their situation.

As she had for Blaise, Ginny felt an unexpected pang of compassion for him. Ginny and Harry were accustomed to weird adventures and dealing well under pressure. Blaise and Draco were not – they weren't a-crisis-a-year people.

"Yes," she told Draco at last. "I think you should come."

"Why?" he demanded.

"Why what?"

"Why do you think I should come? What's in it for you?" He turned his eyes on her suddenly, catching her off-guard. "Why not just leave me here? It would solve a lot of problems for you and Potter, right?"

"Not really," Ginny told him, eyebrow raised. "First of all, you could rat us out – "

"So I'm a liability, am I?"

"Sort of – let me finish," she said carefully. "The other reason is Hayden. If you stay here and something happens to you, he might never exist."

"I hope you realize what you're saying." Draco's expression was unreadable, but his eyes bore into hers. "You do know how that kid came into existence."

"Of course I know," she snapped, going red at once. "But things – people can change and I – he's my son. So maybe – maybe someday things will be different. For now, that's all I need to know."

Draco regarded her for a long, silent moment. Ginny wanted to squirm, but forced herself to be calm and meet his gaze. He needed now to trust her enough to come with.

"All right," he said at last. "All right – I'll come." He sounded relieved, but quickly added, "Just remember who I am, Weasley. I'm not one of your little hero brigade. Don't blame me if you don't like the consequences."

"Just a guess, but I think days of hiking through the woods can change even the likes of you for the better," Ginny retorted, turning away to her bedroom door. "See you in the morning, Malfoy."

He caught her wrist and Ginny was preparing to pull away again when her chest bumped against his and he kissed her. She fell against him in surprise and inadvertently deepened the kiss.

He pulled back right away, leaving Ginny's knees trembling. "Just had to see what I was missing," he mumbled, before disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

Ginny clutched the doorknob for support, silently berating herself for enjoying that so much.

She didn't sleep very well that night.

**)PvsM(**

The fact that the eight young people were so painfully polite at breakfast the next morning was clearly making the adults suspicious. Harry was deeply grateful that Tristan and Hayden's ill will remained in full force. Their ceaseless bickering called attention from the others' sudden meekness. When Cedric casually brought up Quidditch and the others casually agreed to it, suspicion returned and Tristan hastily kicked Hayden under the table. The others, cottoning on, agreed to a morning tournament and left Tristan and Hayden to cover their retreat. Unfortunately, Mr. Malfoy and Ron followed them out of the room, complaining of headaches.

"Usually they aren't so nosy," Tristan grumbled, shouldering her horrendously expensive racing broom and glaring at her uncles' backs. "Think they suspect?"

"Probably," Harry agreed. Nosy was right.

"I don't care how many times I see it, it's still bloody wrong," Draco muttered from his other side. "Weasleys and Malfoys. It's not _right_." He nodded toward Mr. Malfoy and Ron, who were arguing over the advantages of team members all owning the same make of broom. When they laughed over some joke of Ron's, Harry and Draco shuddered.

"It's sick-making and no one can tell Ron about it when this is over," Harry muttered back. "Think about it, Malfoy. If someone had told you this was going to happen – you know, us having to cooperate and all – right after we were sorted, what would you have told them?"

"Told them, nothing!" Draco growled, hoisting his borrowed broomstick higher on his shoulder. "I'd have booked them a luxury suite in Saint Mungo's." Ginny, who was on Malfoy's other side, stifled a laugh.

"Oh, by the way," Tristan put in suddenly. She was just ahead of them beside Cedric and Dorian. "I got the you-know-what last night." Harry perked up.

"Brilliant – where'd you hide it?"

"It's in my room, in my knickers drawer." She threw a smirk over her shoulder. "If Dad realized it was gone, it's the last place he'd look, I can tell you."

"Harry, I've thought of something else," Ginny said. Her eyebrows drew together.

"Later," Harry mumbled at her as they reached the pitch and the Unspeakables turned to face them.

"Right, we've only got eleven players, one alternating in," Mr. Malfoy said. "Teams of five, with a beater, a keeper, a seeker, and two chasers." He paused, glancing around. "I'm curious – oy, Potter!"

He was looking over their shoulders. Harry's heart sank as Unspeakable Harry stalked out, a broom slung over his broad shoulders that made Harry's Firebolt look like a toddler training broom.

"What are you howling about?" the Unspeakable demanded, drawing level with the eight students.

"How d'you feel about Seeking against yourself?" Mr. Malfoy asked, indicating the seventh year Harry, whose eyes widened.

The Unspeakable smirked. "Think you're up to it?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You're looking a little frail there, old man."

It was the strangest thing Harry had ever done. Playing Seeker against Malfoy, his rival, was one thing. Playing his best moves against himself was quite something else. For one thing, Harry was still smaller, less bulky than the Unspeakable. He moved faster and was more agile. On the other hand, the Unspeakable could apparently read minds. He knew exactly where Harry was headed any time he tried to move anywhere on the pitch and was there before Harry. It seemed that neither would ever get the Snitch, since Harry could move faster than lightning and the Unspeakable was telepathic all of a sudden.

"This is ridiculous!" Blaise finally called in annoyance. "If someone catches the Snitch before I'm eighty-five, it'll be a miracle. I call for a break." Ginny, one of the opposing Chasers, nodded fervently in agreement.

"Have some picnic teas brought out, Dad," Hayden suggested, coming to land beside the others with Tristan on his tail.

"Oh, yes, your little bloody highness." But Mr. Malfoy ruffled his son's pale hair as he passed. They were all grateful for the break. Harry especially felt relieved because Unspeakable Harry's expression suggested that if he didn't win the match, Harry would find himself a two-dimensional afterthought on one of the goalposts. He wasn't afraid of that older self, exactly, but he had a healthy sense of caution and the man was not stable.

"Did Dad notice you snooping around, Tris?" Cedric was asking of her Operation: Obtain Cloak mission when Harry joined the group.

"You forget my family status," she quipped, rolling her eyes. "How many men in our family do I have wrapped around my finger?"

"Let us count, shall we?" Cedric retorted, but his lip twitched . "Go on, then, little princess."

"Reckon he was half-asleep anyway," Tristan went on, ignoring her brother. "I went in and pulled the whole teary-eyed motherless girl routine. He let me in and demanded to know what I'd been dreaming about. I – er – let's say I've never been good at lying on the spot."

"What did you say?" Ginny asked leaning forward. Tristan shrugged.

"Told him I'd had a dream that Ced married Lord Voldemort, who turned out to be that octopus woman from that Muggle movie about the mermaid we watched at Dorian's place last summer holiday," she said in breath. They all stared in wonder. Cedric's nose wrinkled.

"Don't worry, big brother," she said, patting his cheek. "In a proper dream, you'd get the mermaid."

"Mermaids are disgusting and noisy," Cedric muttered. He had a little sulk. Hayden pointed at him and laughed.

"Apart from Tristan getting the you-know-what, I've thought of something else," Ginny interjected, glancing around for eavesdroppers. "How on earth are we going to manage supplies? The house elves will give us away for sure if we ask for the things we're going to need. They'll feel obligated to tell Malfoy."

Harry grinned.

"Bet you didn't know there's a rebel, did you?" he asked triumphantly. "Dobby'd steal the Hope Diamond for me if I asked him to. He's a right devious little bugger."

"_Dobby's_ on staff?" Ginny said in amazement. "How'd you find out?"

"Naturally, he found me first," Harry said. "Gave me a bit of a turn when he popped out of the wardrobe this morning."

"Out of the wardrobe, eh?" Blaise murmured, smirking at him.

"Sod off," Harry said, going red for no good reason.

"Alright," Ginny cut Blaise off, rolling her eyes at her. "So supplies are covered," she said. "Guess we're set."

They glanced at each other, and made a silent pact not to speak of the event again until the night of the smuggling.

**)PvsM(**

The night before their intended escape seemed to leap out of them at the end of the week.

Dinner an unusually noisy affair, as they were all keen to act normally. Draco harassed Ginny, Blaise made snide remarks about Harry, Tristan and Hayden outdid themselves verbally, and Dorian kept up a running argument with Harry (when Blaise let up to take a spoon of soup) about the advantages of self-steering broomsticks.

By the end of dinner, they were all psychologically exhausted, but they knew they needed to stay awake to carry out their plan. The only bright spot that evening was that Harry, upon clearing his old Quidditch robe pockets in search of his wand discovered that he had forgotten to remove the Invisibility Cloak after his raid on McGonagall's study. That meant two cloaks instead of the limiting one.

The trick was coordination. Draco, surprisingly, had the solution.

"It's called constructive deconstruction," he explained to his son, his partner in crime, while mutilating the water pipes leading up to every one of the guest bedrooms except Hayden's. Hayden actually seemed impressed with his father's strategy and happily helped him blow up the pipes.

"Good thing Mum and Dad are crap at anything to do with plumbing," Hayden panted as he crept back up the cellar steps after Draco.

"And this is why all of you are trying to fit into Hayden's room at ten-thirty at night?" Mrs. Malfoy said doubtfully. "The plumbing's out everywhere else?"

"It's a shame, Mum, but I'm willing to make a sacrifice for guests," Hayden said with a long-suffering sigh.

"We're pretty sure Hayden's real agenda is a bit less honorable where the ladies are concerned," Dorian said in a loud whisper, "but the rest of us come seeking only hot water."

Mrs. Malfoy let this slide, though reluctantly. She wandered off, muttering about calling her mum. The others exhaled, creating a little second-floor breeze, and threw themselves into action.

Harry showered first and went straight to his room. He put out the light, burrowed beneath the covers, and pulled out the Marauder's Map and his wand. Armed with a Muggle walkie-talkie of Hayden's (when asked again, Hayden went red and repeated, "I _don't_ want to talk about it" while Tristan and Dorian laughed and laughed), Harry lay in wait. Meanwhile, Hayden had his shower, said goodnight to his parents, and prepared for bed. He pulled the hangings round his bed, stuffed his bed with pillows, and crawled out again under one of the invisibility cloaks. Armed with the other walkie-talkie set on its lowest possible volume, he followed Tristan down the hall to her room, where she spent two minutes throwing a few things into a rucksack. Hayden took it and Harry quietly directed him down deserted passages to Harry's own room. Harry's door was open just wide enough to admit a thin person, which Hayden was. Hayden slid in, stuffed the ruckie under the second invisibility cloak under Harry's bed (under which were also survival supplies from Dobby), and disappeared back up the stairs. As the others left the shower and went to their rooms, Hayden shadowed them, slowly collecting rucksacks until they were all concealed under the second cloak under Harry's bed.

While he was doing this, Cedric emerged from his shower, stuffed a rucksack for Hayden, and threw it through the hangings onto his bed. Hayden retrieved it last, nearly collided with his father on the stairs, and at long last, divested himself of the Invisibility Cloak in Harry's room. He slipped from the room and went in search of his parents and uncles. He excused his late trip downstairs to them by giving his mother a big hug and telling his father not to worry, he was sure everything with the time travelers would get sorted out in no time.

"Nice one, Den," Dorian murmured as they passed in the hall. Hayden collapsed onto his four poster and slept a deep, untroubled sleep.

**)PvsM(**

Breakfast the next morning dragged by. The Unspeakables seemed suspicious, Draco thought, but perhaps they were enjoying the tranquility too much to look into it.

"So what're everyone's plans for today?" Mrs. Malfoy asked.

"You all seem dull," Mr. Malfoy added. "Couldn't you do something outside?"

"Quidditch," the eight students said at once. They jumped and then tried not to panic as they realized their brooms were in Harry's room, shrunken and stuffed into rucksacks.

"Really, what's with all of you?" Weasley demanded, glancing around. No one met his eye. It was Tristan who saved the day. Putting on a brave face, she looked imploringly at her uncle.

"We're worried, Uncle Ron," she said softly, twisting a strand of hair round her finger. The girl could act, in Draco's opinion. "We were talking last night and – well, there's a murderer out there somewhere, isn't there? He might be on the grounds." Her voice began to tremble. "He could be in here!" She threw an arm around to encompass the room. Hayden, seated across from her, coughed a bit and the others were all turning smirks into looks of agony. In the Gryffindor's case, Draco noted, they looked constipated rather than anxious. He was sad to see that his heir was no exception.

Unspeakable Potter, his eyes narrow, turned in his chair to wrap an arm around his daughter.

"You know we'll take care of it, Tris," he assured her. "Nothing's going to happen to any of you."

"Look," Mrs. Malfoy cut in. "Why don't the lot of you stay inside today. Snape's been kind enough to send over homework for you three – " indicating his sniffling daughter, Dorian, and Hayden.

"Good idea." Weasley nodded. "It's pouring rain and you'd probably not be able to see the Quaffles or Snitch anyway."

The three who were actually properly attending Hogwarts in the present groaned, but didn't argue.

"As for you four." Mr. Malfoy eyed Draco, Blaise, Potter, and Ginny. "There's a library and Hayden can find you something to do." He smiled at his nephew. "Ced, you're a grown man. I think you keep yourself occupied."

"Think I can manage, yeah." Cedric shrugged. "Nice to have some down time."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of everything, Dad," Hayden assured him. "In fact, let's go up now."

The morning passed in unusual stillness. Cedric talked Potter into a game of chess. Ginny routed through the library until she came up with a fat volume Draco couldn't see the title of. Draco and Blaise took up books as well. Hayden, Tristan, and Dorian did their work quietly and were done by lunch, at which point Tristan's said her hand was shaking too much to write. Draco knew how she felt – he'd read the same paragraph in his book four times without knowing what it said. He finally cast it aside with a groan and went to one of the bleak windows to watch the unyielding rain.

Weasley poked his head round the door at half-noon. "Lunch, you lot," he said. He took in the silence and the parchment covering the floor. "Want to eat up here?"

"Yeah." Potter put in their collective word. He looked a bit pale.

"Right." Weasley gave him a grin and ducked out.

"Okay." Potter turned back to them. He had that earnest, do-gooder look about him that made Draco want to hit him. "Once he leaves the food here with us, we probably have a good twenty minutes. How're we going to get to my room?"

"We're right above your room." Blaise rolled her eyes. Her hands were fisted in her lap. "There's a window over there and we have the invisibility cloak."

"That takes too long," Hayden told her. "By the time we climbed down, got the stuff, and started to leave, our parent's would cottoned on."

"Yeah, I reckon tying bedsheets together is a bit obvious," Tristan said with a smirk.

They were spared Blaise's answer by the arrival of food. Weasley floated it onto the floor, accepted their thanks, and left them to it.

"We need a good excuse to all be in Harry's room," Ginny put in quickly as soon as the door closed behind her brother. Blaise stopped glaring at Tristan and stared at Ginny for a moment. Slowly, she began to nod.

"I'd say a good fight's in order, wouldn't you, Potter?" She raised her eyebrows at Tristan, no longer irritable.

"But it only makes sense if Harry goes down first," Tristan pointed out, cottoning on.

"So, Potter," Draco said. No time like the present, after all. "How's your Mudblood mother doing?"

Game or not, Potter's eyes blazed.

"Bit over the top there, Malfoy," Ginny muttered to him. Without a word, Potter stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. Pulling the Marauder's Map from her jumper, Ginny waited until the it showed Harry was in his room. Not that she needed the map. They could all hear the door slam.

"Now, Tris, Blaise," she said, "you've gotta follow as soon as I get inside, okay? The room shouldn't be empty at any time. But stay in there for a bit before following, so that the timing of people coming to Harry's room is staggered."

"Right, go on." Blaise nodded, taking the map. Ginny glanced at Draco, conjured up a very convincing – and possibly not faked – look of loathing, and hurried out the door.

It was a tense twenty minutes. Potter and Ginny were safely hidden in the trees, Blaise and Tristan were almost there, and Hayden had just summoned the formers' cloak.

"All right, Draco." Cedric met his eye. "Time for the finale."

"Joy unbounded," Draco retorted. He hated admitting to wrong-doing, even if he was pretending.

"Just grumble and curse a bunch. Let's go." Cedric grinned and tucked the Marauder's Map into his pocket.

Go, they did and ran into Mr. Malfoy on the landing.

"What the hell are you lot into?" he demanded. Draco felt his insides go cold – had they been caught already? But then the Unspeakable added, "Tristy and Blaise were crying – _crying._" He grabbed Draco by the scruff of the neck. "If you had anything to do with this – "

Mercifully, Cedric the Improviser jumped in, leaving Draco to scowl and fight to free his collar.

"Too much homework, too much time in the same room," he said simply. "Words were had, it wasn't pretty, we were all to blame, really."

Mr. Malfoy frowned, but released Draco, who tried not to cough. "Where're you off to? Harry's room, too?"

"That's right." Cedric grinned, hooking his finger at Draco. "You have some apologizing to do."

"See that you do, you little twerp." The master of the house stabbed a threatening finger at Draco. "I'm getting tired of you hacking the women off."

"Right, I'll keep that in mind," Draco shot back. "Now if you'll excuse me I have some mindless groveling to do." And Cedric led him away.

"Close – too close," Cedric mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

"Bloody yeah," Draco mouthed back. They made it to Potter's door without another meeting, thankfully. They slipped inside, Cedric sealing the door behind them to buy time if they needed it. He pulled the Marauder's Map from his pocket.

"Right," he said, once he satisfied himself that the coast was clear for the moment. "Let's get the hell out of here." Draco already held the rucksacks and a sopping Invisibility Cloak. Someone had already taken the one under the bed. He tossed a rucksack to Cedric and shook out the cloak.

"It'll be a tight squeeze, but we'll manage." Cedric shouldered his own burden and moved to open the window. Gusts of wind swept rain in. Draco snorted.

"We would choose the day of a bloody hurricane to do this," he muttered. He was just thinking gratefully about the thick cloak he'd packed when a glance over Cedric's shoulder at the Marauder's Map made his heart skip a beat.

"We've gotta move," he snapped. "_I'm _coming toward the door." The boys dashed to the window and vaulted through it. Draco reached up and wrenched it shut, then Cedric wrapped the sopping Invisibility Cloak around them.

"Come on!" he called over the wind. "We've gotta move fast."

"The cloak's so damn wet that bits of us might not be covered!" Draco retorted. "We'll have to walk in step."

Unfortunately, that took quite a long time. As they neared the perimeter, they could see six anxious faces within the foliage. Risking that the high winds wouldn't disguise his voice, Draco called out to Potter, whose face was the easiest to make out.

"They've probably discovered the empty room by now," he shouted. "Go! Run! We've gotta get away from here now!" Potter nodded, and turned to the others. A moment later, Draco could here the distant crunch of running feet fade slowly.

"Take a look at the map," Cedric said. They were still ten meters from the perimeter. Draco plucked the map from Cedric's pocket and opened it while Cedric held the cloak over them.

Draco's heart froze. He nudged Cedric. Cedric swore.

The tiny dots labeled Ginny Malfoy, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and Ron Weasley were no longer in Potter's room. They were coming out toward the Quidditch field.

The Quidditch pitch that was roughly a hundred meters from where Draco and Cedric were standing.

"We've got to move," Cedric hissed in his ear. Run, they did, though awkwardly and at last stopped behind a pine tree at the perimeter. They checked the map again.

"Keep moving!" Draco snapped, throwing off the cloak and dragging it behind him. He and Cedric fled through the undergrowth.

They must have run flat-out for ten minutes before a voice behind a large cedar hissed, "Hey! Malfoy, Ced!" Potter and rest were disheveled and looked like drowned rats. Fortunately, the tree canopy was so thick that it all but stopped the rain from coming through.

"Where's the map?" Hayden asked, his teeth chattering. They all crowded around Draco and let out a collective sigh of relief. The adults had gone back inside. Hayden squinted. Then Tristan gasped. Then Dorian swore.

"Fuck me, they're already getting their brooms," he breathed, pointing at an unlabeled room into which all four Unspeakables had moved.

"They'll be searching the grounds," Hayden agreed. "We've got to get to the edge of the estate. Fast!"

"How far?" Potter demanded.

"About a kilometer from here." Hayden led the way, breaking into a run.

"Oh, no!" Tristan groaned suddenly. "Malfoy, your dad's going to put up the wards!"

"No, you think?" Hayden bellowed. She was already ahead of him and Draco thought he looked more bad-tempered than usual.

"Are those the wards that keep things from coming in and out?" Potter asked, sounding as though he didn't think he wanted an answer.

"We'll never make it passed them if they go up," Hayden panted. "They aren't usually up during the day, especially now that we know they won't keep Red Robes out."

"There's nothing for our parents to suspect yet," Tristan countered. "At first, they'll just think things with Harry got out of hand. Then they'll think we've been kidnapped and will scour the grounds. When they realize we've taken off on our own? That's when we're basically screwed."

"Knowing Malfoy and his suspicious, ferrety little mind, it won't take him long to realize what's happened," Ginny jibed, panting along beside Potter. Blaise sniggered.

"Good one, Weasley," she approved. But Draco, glancing again at Ginny, thought he heard rather a warped compliment mixed in.

They continued to pound along through the woods, Tristan leading them along various clear paths until they could see the edge of the woods.

"That's it!" Dorian called, pointing to the wall of rain waiting to meet them. Draco squinted. Was it rain?

"Oh, damn!" Hayden shouted. "Dad's started putting up the wards! Move!" Though exhausted, they put on a burst of speed. Ginny and Potter, last in the group, were a few meters behind the rest. Draco dashed through the shimmer, feeling as though he'd had a static shock. He whirled back to the barrier, pushing wet hair out of his eyes.

The shimmer was getting stronger.

Without thinking, Draco drew his wand.

"Accio Ginny!" he shouted and Ginny suddenly shot toward him through the barrier. Both toppled to the ground, even as Tristan screamed. Draco looked around Ginny. Potter was diving.

There was flash. A thick silver glimmer hung in the air. Potter lay motionless just on their side of the fully operational ward.

"Dad!" Tristan dashed to his side, dropping to her knees beside him. Draco watched Potter stir, groan, and sit up slowly. Tristan threw her arms around him, and Cedric and Dorian moved to help him up. Blaise started telling him what a git he was.

"Thanks, Malfoy." Ginny's voice was in his ear and he realized she was still stretched out on top of him. She lifted her face and he caught her eye without meaning to. He grinned up at her, her hair hanging in lose tendrils into his face. She blushed and rolled quickly off him. Draco got to his feet, still watching her. His voice was too quiet for anyone to hear.

"Any time, Weasley. Any bloody time."

**)PvsM(**

_TBC_


	7. In Which Trolls Gate Crash

**A/N: **I'm so glad this update is done. This chapter needed an overhaul BADLY. I'm quite pleased with this one, actually ^_^ Keep an eye out for edit updates in the near future!

Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good…(of course it's not ours!)

**)PvsM(**

"Damn. That'll leave a mark."

Ginny knelt beside him, hand on his arm. "Harry, you scared me. Are you all right? Do you hurt?"

"Only when I – ow – when I breathe." Harry coughed, a hand against his chest. "I'm okay…" He looked over his shoulder at the glimmering wards, winced, and pushed himself to his feet, water dripping into his eyes from his sodden hair. He gave his head an experimental shake, adjusting his glasses. He gave Ginny, who was still hovering, a shaky grin. "Almost didn't make it."

"Almost didn't make it!" Blaise snorted, her lip curling. "What the hell were you doing, Potter? I thought you were supposed to be the youngest Seeker in a century. I've seen that fat-arse Longbottom eat faster than you were running."

"Shut up about Neville," Harry said impulsively. He looked her over. She was dripping, too, and she resembled a Siamese cat. A wet, grouchy Siamese cat.

"You're an idiot, Potter," she told him, coming over to poke him in the chest. "If you can't keep up, you should never have come with us."

"Are you worried about me, Zabini?" Harry demanded, pulling off his glasses and trying to clean them on his robes.

Blaise's mouth opened and closed, as though no one had ever said anything so disgusting to her. She shoved her soaking hair over her shoulder, and hefted her chin. "Sod off, Potter." She turned away, but as she did, she threw a glance over her shoulder. Her purple eyes lingered on his face for a moment before she stalked to Malfoy, who was just struggling to his feet. She didn't offer him a hand up.

**)PvsM(**

Ginny watched Harry replace his specs and blink, a frown tugging at his mouth. He looked after Blaise, eyes unfocused.

"When I was a kid, if you liked someone you hit them," Cedric said in an undertone as he materialized beside Ginny. He shook a fall of water from his hair, and in the blur of his face, Ginny saw two different people, impossibly twined together in the child they'd created together.

Aware that she'd struck Draco Malfoy several times recently, Ginny swallowed. "So…what do you do when you grow up?" She looked back at Draco, who was on his feet at last in the rainy shadows of the trees. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel his gaze.

Cedric shrugged, adjusting his pack. "That's easy. You just have to hit harder – to get their attention, you know." He winked.

Ginny shivered in her soaked robes. Well, at least she could continue to be violent, small comfort it was. Not that she needed his attention – she wasn't sure she really wanted it.

"Come on, let's get moving. We've a long way to go," Cedric called to everyone over the rain. "No brooms – they're to stay shrunken in the packs. Also, no charms and no magic of any kind, unless you're in a life-threatening situation. That includes emergency hair styling charms, Malfoys." Draco and Hayden protested indignantly, though the latter chuckled."Wands used for light only and for as brief a time as can be managed. And everybody stick together."

"Oy, Uncle Percy! Why d'you get to boss everyone?" Dorian began.

Cedric straightened to his full height and favored the grumbling redhead with a superior smile. "Since I'm the oldest person here, prat. Anyway, most of you owe me. I had to change your nappies."

Dorian backed down, mouth turned down at the corners. His expression reminding Ginny of the one Ron wore when asked to clean the bathroom all seven Weasley siblings shared growing up. "All right, you did your time. You definitely deserve to be leader," he muttered. Ginny remembered Ron mentioning Dorian having five siblings. She did the math – five younger siblings over seventeen years … the numbers were mind-boggling.

"It's just as well, mate," Hayden said, patting Dorian's shoulder. "You couldn't organize a piss-up at a brewery."

"Hey!"

Ginny picked up her rucksack and fell in behind them, grinning a little in spite of herself. Harry stepped up beside her, returning her grin in that reassuring way he had. "Not that I don't have complete and utter blind faith in you and Cedric," Ginny told him, "but where do we start? How are you guys proposing we get to where we're going?"

"Where are we going, anyway?" Dorian asked from ahead.

Harry exchanged a glance with Cedric. "Cedric and I decided our best option is a town called Glastonbury. It's about two hours from Bath by bus. It used to be known as the Isle of Avalon and there's a lot of local Muggle history can help us piece together the real story."

"Bath? Do you have any idea how far we are from there now?" Draco griped. "And you expect us to walk? It'll take a week at least, maybe two. Are you mad?"

"Relax, Malfoy – we've got it sorted." Harry rolled his eyes. "Cedric's got emergency Portkeys stashed all over the country – we just have to get to the first one, take it to the next point, and so on. Eventually, we'll be about a four-hour walk from Glastonbury. We've got some Muggle money, so we might even be able to get Muggle transportation, maybe a train to the station at Reading, and then a bus – "

"Muggle transport?" Draco looked ill. "You must be joking. I've read safety statistics – we'll all _die_. I was almost hit by a helicopter once, I know what I'm talking about."

"Don't be a wimp, Malfoy," Harry retorted. "If you really don't want to go with us, you can wait out here all night until the wards go down in the morning – "

"Oh, sod off, scar-head."

Harry hefted his rucksack, and Draco fell into step with Blaise.

"This manual labor makes me _sick_," he complained, already rubbing his shoulders. "Stupid weather. Stupid walking. Stupid Potter."

Blaise sniggered. "You're off your game today, Draco."

"Let me tell you who's off," he began, glaring at Harry.

"If you plan to complain all the way to Glastonbury, I may kill you in your sleep," Ginny snapped.

"Oh, try it, Weasley."

"Maybe I will."

"They _are _worse than Tristan and Hayden," Dorian said audibly to Cedric.

Ginny turned red, Draco cursed the name of Potter again, and so their journey began.

**)PvsM(**

They didn't stop to rest that night – they couldn't afford to, with four Unspeakables and probably a psychopath on their tails.

The trek south was a test of endurance. In the beginning, Draco sniped at everyone and his bad attitude set Harry off. Meanwhile, Tristan and Hayden couldn't be within a mile of each other without fighting, and it didn't take them long to find a topic. Ginny was sure she would go mad, but after hours of hiking, no one had the energy to bicker any longer.

Then the group moved in relative silence for several hours. At first, the quiet was a relief, but after a while, the going seemed even harder; uphill and colder. Ginny felt like she was going to drown if she didn't get out of the rain soon, but she wasn't going to be the first to complain.

She couldn't hide the fact that she was tiring, though. She'd dropped to the back of the line, feeling as though kilos of water filled her shoes. Her feet seemed to drag her forward while her water-logged rucksack felt like it was pulling her back. At one point, she stumbled and thought she might actually fall, when someone reached out to steady her. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed at a sleeve, clutching a fistful of wet fabric to pull herself up.

"Thanks, Harry," she said. If she had fallen, she doubted if she could have made herself get back up. His hand slid around hers and she found the contact soothing. The chill lifted from her bones and settled on her skin.

"What? Did you say something, Gin?" Harry's voice was distant, coming from near the front of the line.

The hand tensed around hers.

"Nothing," she called back, remembering abruptly that Harry had not been wearing gloves. Fingertips brushed up her arm in a steadying grip, and she swallowed. "Malfoy?"

"Most assuredly," came the cold drawl. They continued on without speaking to each other for a few minutes, but through the torrential rain, she could hear him muttering, "Potter, indeed …my arms are twice the size of his."

"So is your head**," **Ginny muttered at last, unable to control herself. She was glad she couldn't see his face in the dark. Somehow it was easier to talk to him without him watching her with those cold, glittering eyes, like the fixed stare of a snake. She yanked her arm away from him.

"Aren't you going to thank me for rescuing you from a nasty spill?" he demanded; an angry, resentful sound. The cold left her completely in the wake of the indignant heat that ran every part of her body, and she drew in a harsh breath.

"What is it you want, Malfoy?" she snapped. "I'm not going to swoon with thanks or – or shower you with kisses or anything."

"I don't know," he murmured, forgoing resentment for lazy flirtation. "You were doling them out last week."

"I was proving a point," Ginny said, remembering their descent from the tower and trying hard not to go red. Not that he could have seen her in the dark, but still.

"What kind of point? That you get off on sadistic violence?"

"Of, for Merlin's sake, bugger off!" She got several steps ahead, and then cursed as she tripped again.

He caught her arm, his body in line with hers. "Hold onto me, since you can't walk on your own. The last thing I want is for Potter to think I damaged you on purpose."

Ginny pulled on her arm to no avail – he wasn't letting go. "But you might try to damage me accidentally? Let me go, you pig!"

They had a small battle, until Ginny, arm trembling with fatigue, had to give up.

"Please, Malfoy, just stop." She slumped slightly, her knees weak.

"Stop what, Weasley? I'm not doing anything, apart from helping you walk properly!" he snapped. His grip did loosen.

"Stop acting like you're trying to help! It's unnerving and completely unbelievable." She half-heartedly jerked her arm again. The sensation of the cool, damp leather of his glove made her breath catch and her skin tingle in a rather alarming manner. She decided it was disgust and aversion.

"Malfoy – "

"Shh!" He tilted his head, as though listening. For a long moment there was only the sound of the raindrops splashing on the leaves of the trees high above, and then plopping heavily to the mossy ground. Distantly, the crunch of the others' footsteps could he heard. Ginny strained to listen, her heart giving a little jolt as the thought of what he might be hearing.

"Help you? I'm not trying to help you," Draco said, making her jump. He pulled her gently into a walk, apparently giving up on what he might have been hearing. "If you fall and get hurt, you'll only slow us down and I want to get this mess over with as soon as possible – and it's not just a mess, Weasley. This – it's all a disaster! It goes completely against everything I know! I mean, Nostradamus couldn't have seen _this_ coming! Traveling along on foot, for Merlin's sake, cold and drenched, no light, no magic. Now I know what being a bloody worthless Muggle feels like!" He made another helplessly furious sound in his throat**, **and Ginny recognized the vain attempt to hide from his fear. "Damn Potter!"

Ginny scowled, though the look was completely lost on him in the darkness. Her sarcasm wasn't, however. "It's nice you're sharing your feelings, Malfoy, I was so unsure about them before." She ignored her own overpowering desire to pull away. He wouldn't let go and she'd probably just trip again.

"That's not even a start on what I think, Weasley." Draco's voice strangled around the words as he spat them out. "I think you and Potter can traipse around in this mess because you dream about a future like this. You're happy, your war is won. You've got a rich wizard licking your boots, and a dutiful little heir prancing around in Gryffindor robes." She could hear his lip curl. "You know better. You're too smart to believe that futures like this don't come at a price to someone else."

She thought about Clarissa. "What do you mean, too smart?" she asked distractedly. Was he complementing her, or insulting her?

But he only paused again, and she could picture his sharp features scowling in the darkness as he shushed her once more, cocking his head as if listening. "Shhh - did you hear that? There it is again."

"There what is again?" Ginny asked impatiently, looking around. She couldn't make out much of anything. He was starting to scare her. Knowing Malfoy, he was probably doing it on purpose. Anything to throw her off so he could walk all over her.

"Nothing," he growled again, just as impatiently as she had. Then he jumped right back into what he'd been saying. "You can forget about this little fantasy world right now because I'm not letting it happen. Once we get back, I'm staying as far away from you as I possibly can. I'll move to the other side of the bloody planet if I have to, to keep this - this revolting reality from existing. I won't have it, Weasley, do you hear me?"

Ginny gritted her teeth, hot color flood her cheeks and forehead. "Presumptuous, much? You think your sorry attitude can change the future…maybe you and Harry will become great friends!" She felt hateful words crawling up her throat. "Maybe you'll die and not have a future at all." She scowled. "And oy, your highness, who says I want to shag you? Poncy git, I'd sooner shag ... the Bloody Baron!"

"Bite your tongue, Weasley!" Draco's hand clenched around her arm. Not painfully, but enough to remind her how close he was standing.

"Make me," she retorted. "If you're allowed to be a spiteful bastard, you can't stop me biting back. I'm not a helpless child anymore."

He didn't speak for a long moment, but his grip on her arm relaxed. Eventually, he muttered, "Aren't you a bit flattered that I might have to move to another continent to keep my hands off you?"

"I might be, if I didn't know you," she grumbled, though she felt her skin go hot again. "Anyone with breasts suits you, from what I can tell."

"Oy, back there!" Cedric's voice came through the darkness. "Still with us, Aunt Gin? Malfoy?"

Eager for any excuse to escape Draco, Ginny hurried toward the voice, pulling free of his grip at last. Maybe the mention of breasts had distracted him enough to loosen his grip. Squinting through the dark, she could just make out the others. She hurried along the line until she found Harry and Cedric.

"Can't take this anymore," she grated out. Harry, either sensing her fatigue or assuming that _this_ meant Draco, linked his arm companionably through hers. Even though it was cramped walking side by side, Ginny leaned into him, feeling her tired legs work a little harden.

"I know – sorry, Gin." Harry sighed, patting her arm. She felt comforted – it was almost like having one of her big brothers along.

"Stop apologizing," she ordered. "You can't be any happier about this than I am."

"Actually, I'm a bit excited," he admitted. Ginny thought if you could have seen his face, he'd have looked like an excitable schoolboy again. "Not about being here or anything, Merlin no! But I grew up reading about places like Avalon and Mount Olympus and Atlantis in Muggle books, and wishing I were there. Then Hagrid shows up, tells me I'm a wizard, and suddenly it's all coming true. And now, finding out that Avalon might actually exist – well, it's a great adventure, isn't it?"

"That's an optimistic way of looking at it," Cedric said from in front of them.

"Reckon it is," Harry agreed, the guilt in his voice again. "But I don't see the point in being bad-tempered about it. It's my fault I'm here. I might as well enjoy where I can."

"Ever the Gryffindor." Blaise's sharp voice was blunted by weariness. "Well, optimistic boy wonder, I'm all for making the best of things – " Tristan snorted – "but I may drown if we don't get out of the rain soon. And little Weasley there looks like she'll collapse."

Apparently deciding to pass over Blaise's superb night vision, Harry shrugged.

"Fine," he said amiably. "Show me a good spot and we'll take a break." As there were no patches of ground that hadn't been soaked by tireless rainfall, Blaise called Harry a rude name and the group trudged on.

"That's it," Hayden said an hour later. Ginny couldn't feel her feet and her legs felt like they weighed a stone each. "I can't go any further. Let's get out the map and see if there's a cave or something we can kip in until tomorrow."

_Why didn't I think of the __m__ap_? Ginny wondered in irritation. Harry slapped his forehead, apparently thinking the same thing.

"Don't give yourself concussion, Potter," Blaise said sardonically. "There's so little brain in there as it is, it'd be a shame to damage it."

"I don't object," Draco put in unhelpfully. "Keep on pounding, scarhead."

"Crawl into a hole and die, won't you, Malfoy?" Harry snapped, pulling the Marauders' Map from his cloak pocket. "Gin, can you get to your wand and give me a bit of light?"

Ginny swung her pack off her back, nearly overbalancing. With difficulty, she dug her wand out and aimed it over the map.

"Lumos!" A narrow beam of light fell across the map, which showed trees in almost every direction. They tapered off in the upper corner of the map. As best any of them could tell, no one and nothing were anywhere within a couple of square miles of them.

"Northeast," Cedric muttered. "The tree line ends there."

"Looks like rock," Dorian agreed, peering over Tristan's shoulder.

"Awfully convenient," Draco mumbled, his breath in Ginny's ear. He was leaning over her shoulder, gazing down at the illuminated parchment. His hair tickled her cheek.

"Convenient or not, I think we need a break," Hayden put in.

"Who asked you?" Draco retorted.

"He's right. We're soaked and exhausted." Cedric gave Draco a look. "And stroppy. Let's go."

The trek to the cave took longer than Ginny thought it would. Stumbling along, her wet cloak tangling around her legs, she gave a violent sneeze.

"Bless you," Hayden said automatically, dropping back to walk next to her. "How're you doing?"

"I've been better," she admitted. "You?"

"Not feeling great," he returned, with a chuckle. She noticed his voice was hoarse.

"Trust me, this is about as good as he gets, Aunt Gin," Tristan put in from where she walked with Dorian.

"Stupid Potter," Hayden snarled under his breath, sounding just like his father. Then, in a louder voice, "Been watching me again, Tristan?"

"You wish!" she snarled. "I wouldn't watch you if I were blind."

"That's true," Dorian murmured in amusement. "Ow! Oy, Tris."

"Any chance you two would give it a rest before I go mad?" Blaise asked coldly. Draco, walking beside her, grunted in acquiescence.

"No – but thanks for asking," Tristan said sweetly.

Reaching the cliff face was something of a relief. It was bad enough that Tristan and Hayden couldn't control themselves. With Blaise aggravating her daughter and Draco making it a point to needle his son, Ginny doubted if any of them would last the night. And although the banter had once proved a needed distraction, it was getting old again.

Harry withdrew the Marauder's Map, shielding it from the rain as best he could with his cloak. "Lumos!" Ginny's wand was out once more.

"That looks promising." Cedric pointed to a large gap in the cliff face some thirty meters from where they stood. The map showed no other living thing in the small space. Harry put the map away and they all moved cautiously toward the cave mouth.

"Let's have a look inside," Harry said, drawing his own wand. "Malfoys, Ced, Ian. Come on."

"What? You're not leaving us out here," Blaise cut in.

"It might not be safe," Harry pointed out.

"Girl's got a point." Everyone turned to stare at Tristan in surprise. "If you manly lot get eaten or something, we'll never know."

Ginny couldn't resist adding, "Suppose whatever gets you comes after us?"

"According to the map, there's nothing in there, smarty knickers. On the other hand," Draco put in, and Ginny was sure she wouldn't like what he was about to say, "we could use the three of you as bait. Make the rest of the trip so much quieter – "

"Piss off," Blaise interrupted. "We should use one of you. We'd all be a lot better off with less bollocks and more brains."

Ginny knew she wasn't the only one who was surprised at that, but wasn't about to let a good comeback slip away.

"Perhaps if we put Malfoy on a line and dangled him over the cave," she said, smirking. "Nothing gets him after a minute or so and we can go have a look."

Tristen sniggered. Blaise gave Ginny a wicked smile.

The boys, looking thoroughly irritated, turned and went on ahead through the cave mouth.

"Didn't know you had it in you, Weasley," Blaise commented.

"What?"

"Taking the piss out of Draco," she clarified. "I thought you'd spend the rest of this sodding escapade letting him chew you up."

Ginny shrugged. "I reckon eternal patience is overrated, that's all."

"Yeah, Malfoys make saints want to kill," Tristan muttered.

A thorough investigation showed that not only was the cave indeed devoid life, but it didn't go deeper than about ten meters into the cliff.

"I say wicked yeah to this pad." Dorian sighed, sliding down the wall and settling himself on the dusty floor.

"I wouldn't say no to a fire," Cedric said. "Someone help me get some wood."

"I'll go," Tristy and Hayden both volunteered. They started and glowered at each other. Harry snorted.

"I'll help," he offered. "Tris, come along, won't you?"

"Right." Tristan followed the two men out and Ginny sank down onto the floor. Peeling off her sopping outer cloak, she cleared herself a small space on the floor. Hoping no one would hear, she cast a drying charm and pillowed the cloak beneath her.

"Poor little Weasel," a most unwelcome voice came from beside her. "All tired out, are you?"

"Go 'way, Malfoy," she ordered, stretching her aching legs out and cracking her back.

"Oy, leave her alone!" Hayden's cold voice drifted across the cave. "She's exhausted."

"The day I do what you tell me, lad, is the day Potter gives Ron Weasley a snog," Draco shot back. Ginny bit off a hysterical giggle.

"Right – who's on first watch?" came Dorian's voice. He sounded wide-awake and eager as ever. "Den? Reckon you've got the energy?"

"Sure." Ginny heard Hayden and Dorian move to the cave entrance.

"Can we trust you to mention if something's coming in here that shouldn't?" Draco demanded. Ginny clenched her teeth – he was still seated beside her, his knee against her back.

"I'll make sure all the lives worth preserving are preserved," Hayden shot back. "Leave Mum alone and I'll consider sparing yours."

"Lay off, _Draco_," Ginny added over her shoulder, readjusting her position so that a sharp rock was no longer digging into her hip. "You're hacking everyone right off. Someone's bound to hit you."

"Don't push me, Weasel," he hissed. "Or I swear you won't get a wink of sleep tonight."

"Leave her alone, Malfoy." Harry was back. "Or Ginny's right, you'll get hit."

"Oh, what luck, Ginny-love," Draco murmured. She heard the scrabble of his boots as he got to his feet. "Your disfigured boy hero is back to save the day."

"And always will be," Harry promised, bending down to pat her shoulder. "Sleep tight, Gin."

**)PvsM(**

Blaise's eyes slapped open. Her senses tingled and she felt wide awake, though she knew she'd asleep for a few hours. She automatically scanned the inside of the cave, noticing people and sounds. The rain had stopped and all was quiet, though unrest wasn't what had brought her awake.

From the back her her neck to the curve of each ankle, she could feel Harry Potter against her. "Bloody _hell_!" she whispered, not daring to move. Obviously, he had been moving around in his sleep, because his strong arm was draped across her hip and his breath was coming out in quiet puffs against her exposed neck. She had a wild moment of confusion, wondering if someone hadn't given her alcohol. She couldn't think of another reason why she would have agreed to him sleeping so close to her.

Her immediate impulse was to destroy him, the creepy bastard. She knew where her wand was and she could turn him into a flea (a harmless little flea) before he was even fully awake. She could just call Draco over to pound him for her. Then Draco undoubtedly get beat up himself by Potter's spawn and Draco's own son, which would be a definite bonus.

Ah, the cunning inner-workings of the Slytherin mind!

Blaise sighed, a wicked smile at her lips. Without warning, Potter sighed too, his arm sliding lower and pulling her more tightly against him. Blaise scowled, her back warm and comfortable, her front still dripping with rain and freezing. She wanted very much to go for her wand and pry mister busy-hands off her. Unfortunately, her body wasn't doing a damned thing.

_I hate you, Potter_, she thought savagely. Desperately, she sent a plea into the heavens that no one would wake up and notice this incredible piece of awkward before Blaise could extricate herself. She threw another glance around what she could see in the dark cave. Two figures were outlined against faint moonlight from the entrance, neither speaking. Apparently, Tristan and Draco had been paired together for guard duty. Tristan had her nose buried in the Marauder's Map (dumb name, in Blaise's opinion). Draco was hunched against the wall.

Blaise was halfway through another sigh, thought better of it, and nearly choked. She was up next. She and Dorian Weasley. She needed to be free of Potter now! She shifted a bit, Potter's arm consequently sliding down her hip and onto her thigh. She shivered.

_If this is what he's like asleep_, Blaise thought involuntarily, _I can't imagine what he can do when he's aware of what he's about_.

She made a note to confess all her sins to Professor Snape once they got out of the mess they were in (the humiliation alone would cure her of all thoughts of associating with Gryffindors). Then she went to work peeling Potter off her. Since he apparently thought she was his big fluffy Slytherin hot water bottle, he didn't let go easily. If he kept on, someone would notice. She stilled, deciding a sudden rush for freedom was her only hope.

"Mmm," he murmured, pressing his lips into the back of her neck. Blaise bit back a groan and lunged away, nearly flattering a snoring Dorian Weasley in the process.

"Blaise, what the hell are you doing?" Draco said in tones of the extremely bored.

"Winning the world cup, obviously," she snapped in a whisper, dusting herself off and praying to several gods that he hadn't seen her rolled up with Potter. "Go wake Dorian Weasley up – it's our shift now."

"Wait a minute." Tristan stared down at the map, squinting in the darkness.

"Let me see," Blaise ordered, tugging the map toward her.

"What?" Draco, suddenly alert, peered over her shoulder.

"Oh, no," Blaise murmured, staring down at the suddenly lively map.

"What is it?" Potter the sleepy bedtime groper was getting to his feet.

"We've got trouble," Draco told him, forgoing an insult for once. "Wake the others."

"What's trouble look like, exactly?" Harry asked, nudging Dorian, Ginny, and Cedric awake with his toe.

"It's big and it's got friends," Blaise said, any irritation she might have felt with him forgotten for the moment.

"Big and smelly," Tristan added, her nose almost touching the map as she tried to see through near-blackness. She winced "Can you lot smell that?"

"Trolls!" Draco's nose wrinkled too. "They're just inside the edge of the map now."

"But this can't be their cave." Potter hurried to join them. "They'd stink up the place for weeks."

"They're woodland trolls – map says so," Draco said, pointing to the little labels that had just appeared beside the giant figures moving across the map. He shook his head. "Those things usually live deep inside dark forests. This cliff is part of a plateau that looks like it leads onto some big, grassy moors."

"That doesn't make sense." Dorian Weasley joined them, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "They might have followed us but we'd have heard them or smelled them ages ago. They're not clever at all."

About a half-kilometer along the cliff-side to their left were four massive dots. Not that one needed a map to figure out the things were coming. Their stench had probably reached Red's Park by now and their muffled footfalls reached Blaise's sharp ears without difficulty. Without the torrential downpour, the sound and smell carried even more clearly.

"Reckon we can get out before they spot us?" Ginny asked, tying back her hair as she joined them around the map.

"Maybe they'll miss us," Tristan piped hopefully. "Aren't they really stupid?"

"I still want to know what the hell they're doing out of their forest," Draco pressed, his lip twisting.

"You think someone knows we're here, Malfoy?" Harry demanded, pushing his specs up his nose.

"It could be Red Robes, couldn't it?" Draco retorted. "He wants at least two of us dead. And even one woodland troll could do it. They corner their prey before sitting on them and eating them. If Red Robes has a talent for Legilimency, a troll's mind is easy work."

"Let's go, then," Tristan said. While the others were talking, she had apparently been collecting the rucksacks. She began handing them round. "Can we outrun them? Head back into the woods?"

"And what if whoever sent these blokes has friends?" Blaise demanded, hand clenching around strap of her rucksack. She dug in it and felt her Caduceus press into her palm. The feeling of the intertwined snakes was reassuring.

"That's not the only problem," Potter pointed out. "There's also the issue of them moving a lot faster in their own territory."

"What do you suggest?" Cedric asked.

"Well, we can't stay here." Tristan stared at her brother, as though willing him to fix everything.

"Wait!" Blaise said suddenly. "What if we don't go into the woods?"

"Much as I hate agreeing with Potter, she's right," Hayden muttered. Tristan growled and Hayden ignored her. "We're cornered. We've got to get out and the woods is the only way."

"Is it?" Blaise retorted. "We're in a cave, right? In a cliff, attached to a plateau."

"So?"

"So, smart-arse, let's go _up_!"

"What? Climb the cliff?"

"Sure." The thought set Blaise's palms sweating but what choice did they have? "If we go into the forest, we're more likely to be separated. Plus we're fighting the trolls in their own territory, giving them the advantage."

"And if Red Robes is behind this, he's waiting for us, too. Zabini's right." Ginny took a last look at the map, then folded and pocketed it. "Plus, this plateau leads onto some moors. Much quicker and easier going than slogging in the woods."

"And what if the trolls notice us climbing?" Dorian asked, tapping his foot against the cave floor and chewing his lip.

"Then we'll do it real quiet-like," Draco said, holding himself tight against whatever emotion he was fighting. "Troll eyesight and hearing stink as much as they do. It's their sense of smell that's powerful. Ironic, really. If I smelled like that, I wouldn't be able to get a whiff of anything else."

"All right," Potter said, biting his lip. "All right, that's it then. Try to stay together."

They shouldered their bags and followed Potter from the cave. Blaise almost gasped. Two of the shapes were already just visible through the darkness. They were standing stock-still and grunting stupidly, but that would change the moment the wind drew the scent of human into their nostrils.

"We're down-wind. Probably why it's taken them so long to get here," Draco muttered from behind her. Blaise glanced at him through the dark. He was waving his hand, evidently wanting them to fan out a bit. Blaise stared up the cliff face. A good fifteen meters of steep climbing, at least, though jagged enough to be climbable. She took a deep, shuddering breath. She felt a gentle hand on her arm. Potter gave her a faint smile through the dark.

"Bet I can beat you, Zabini," he whispered.

"Dream on." She gave him a half-smile of reluctant gratitude that his myopic eyes probably couldn't see. She turned away and reached out for a firm handhold on the cliff. It wasn't too hard to find one, not with her excellent night vision. She moved quietly, just in case the trolls got close enough to hear them. It would be slow going. Blaise reached for another handhold. Securing herself against the rock, she hooked her feet into a couple of promising notches and pulled herself up against the cliff face.

Several minutes later and she was about three meters up. Potter was just visible in through the darkness, no more than a meter above her. Carefully, she glanced down. She was a good three meters up, but the first troll had reached the cave entrance. Cedric Potter was closest. He glued himself to the rock, motionless.

Tearing her eyes from him, Blaise continued to climb. A moment later, she nearly lost her grip as Tristan gave a surprised squeal. Blaise twisted, squinting through the dark toward the sound.

Tristan hung from an overhang with one hand, swinging precariously back and forth. Judging by the small avalanche around her, the girl had tried to pull herself up on a deteriorating outcropping of dirt. Only years of Quidditch muscle kept her against the cliff.

"Tristy!" Potter was already moving sideways, trying to get to her. Blaise reached out to grab his foot.

"Don't, Potter!" she muttered at him, trying to keep one eye on the trolls and one on Tristan. "If the trolls haven't heard anything, she might still make it. Let Draco and Weasley help her."

Dorian and Draco, climbing on either side of Tristan, were crawling toward her, trying to grip her other hand. Without warning, the hand still gripping the rock slipped. Blaise had to clamp her own hand over her mouth to stifle a shriek as the girl began to fall –

A meter below, Hayden Malfoy caught her under the arms. There was a sound like a shot, and Blaise heard his groan of pain. Somehow, he kept his grip on both Tristan and the cliff.

"He probably dislocated his shoulder doing that," Potter mumbled, still tense against Blaise's grip on his leg. "Come on, Malfoy. Pull her up!"

"Potter, we've got to move!" Blaise had just glanced down again. The first troll was less than five meters away and gaining fast. Fortunately, Cedric was high enough above them to be out of reach, but he, too, looked like he might go for Tristan at any moment.

"What about – " Potter threw a glance at his daughter

"We're dead if we stay here and the trolls smell us!" Blaise hissed. "There's nothing we can do for Tristan. If we reach the top before them we can work on a distraction of some kind, all right?"

"Fine," he muttered after a moment. "Let's go. Cedric's probably already up."

Blaise glanced sideways. Indeed, Cedric's shadow was gone. Blaise began to climb again, forgoing stealth for speed. After another three meters, she glanced carefully sideways. Tristan was safely back on the cliff-face. She, Draco, and Dorian were helping a whimpering Hayden climb with one arm tucked against his chest. Blaise sent up a wish that he wouldn't fall or pass out. Even trolls were bound to notice that.

Blaise glanced up. She was surprisingly close to the top. No more than two meters, in fact. Cedric Potter's face appeared just above her, even as his father clambered over the edge.

"Come on," Cedric hissed. "They're almost below you – hold it!"

Blaise froze. Trying very hard not to shift at all, she looked down again. The first troll was directly below her. She was out of reach, but she kept still, not wanting to call attention to the others. She looked sideways to check on them and her stomach tightened. The first troll was still directly below her, but his three comrades were moving passed him. And they were moving too purposefully for Blaise's taste. Almost as though they knew that Hayden, Tristan, Draco, and Dorian were still barely six meters up the cliff.

Still within clubbing distance.

Blaise swore. So, a meter above her, did Cedric. He and Potter were too far away to do anything. But surely she could do something.

Tristan was her daughter. Blaise levered her pack off her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Potter demanded. Blaise ignored him, tossing her pack up to him. Fortunately, he caught it. Blaise turned away to gauge the distance to the nearest troll. Then she gave a yell of cosmic proportions and leapt off the cliff. Excellent eyesight helped her land neatly on the shoulders of the troll who had been standing directly below her. She ducked as the thing tried to swipe her from its meaty shoulders with a lumpy fist. She ducked again as its club was swung clumsily at her. Grabbing onto its ears to keep her balance, Blaise was relieved to notice that all the troll's insane bellowing had stopped his friends in their tracks. Dimly, over the sounds her charge was making, she could hear her companions' voices. She squinted – she saw Tristan's feet vanish over the top of the cliff. Hayden was right behind her. Blaise felt a weight lift from her stomach.

She focused on the other trolls and could just make out the other three coming to see what was upsetting their friend. A sudden sway of the troll's body caused Blaise to grab its head. She saw its club a minute before it swung. She had just enough time to remove her hands before the troll brought the thing down on its own head. Blaise could have laughed out loud at the stupidity of it all if she hadn't been busy trying to stop herself falling three meters. The troll staggered, and then collapsed. Blaise managed an awkward forward roll onto the grass, which cushioned her fall somewhat. She pushed herself to her feet, realizing an instant too late that she was upwind. The remaining three trolls, now fully aware of her, were bearing down, clubs held high.

"Oh, bugger it all – " The words were barely out of her mouth, when she felt something slam into her, yanking her off her feet.

"You're no Gryffindor, Zabini," Potter murmured in her ear, settling her in front of him on the broom he was still flying at full-speed away from the bellowing trolls. "What was that stunt all about?"

Blaise opened her mouth, but all that came out was a surprised gurgle that might have been a laugh. Then she began to shake.

"Easy," he said, his arm securely around her waist. "I've got you. You're safe."

"Safe," she repeated, leaning against him to stop the trembling and feeling unaccountably weary. Every ounce of strength and courage she had had gone into throwing herself off that cliff – she hadn't a drop left. Let Harry Potter deal with whatever came next.

"That's right. Here we are." He leveled the broom off over the plateau.

"Blaise!" Draco's face appeared out of the darkness. "Speak to me, Zabini, are you alive?"

"Ask later," she suggested. Potter landed and Blaise's knees went out from under her. Hands caught her.

"That was brilliant, Aunt Blaise!" Dorian Weasley appeared behind Draco, grinning at her. "Wicked cool!"

"Why did you do that?"

Tristan's face appeared beside her cousin's. Hands supported her, voices spoke to her. She blinked, trying to make sense of them.

When she woke, she was propped against a tree and Harry Potter's shoulder. She didn't recognize anything around her, which probably meant that they'd carried her away from the cliff.

"We're in an orchard beyond the plateau," Potter said when he felt her stir. "Watching you play the hero wore us all out."

"Someone had to do it," she retorted, too tired still to lean away from him. "Why'd you come after me, Potter?"

She felt him shrug. "Someone had to come after you," he said. "Why me? Well ..." He paused. "You saved my daughter, Blaise."

She blushed, biting her lip. "I saved my daughter."

"I know." He didn't say anything else, but his arm around her tightened, just a little.

"I don't know if I could do anything like that again, Potter," she told him, pressing her face into his shoulder.

"Trust me, attacking a troll is a once-in-a-lifetime job," he said, chuckling. His breath warmed her neck. "I'll tell you about my moment of stupid heroism sometime."

"I ... I'd like that," Blaise said, surprised that it was true.

"Sleep well," Potter said.

Blaise closed her eyes and did.

**)PvsM(**

_TBC_


	8. In Which They Are Misdirected

**A/N**: Nothing relieved me more than the overhaul of this chapter. Lee did a great job on the ideas in the original, all of which remain intact, but we so badly needed to do an edit that never happened. The results of said (though belated) edit make me unspeakably happy.

Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good …(of course it's not ours!)

**)PvsM(**

The small group entered the village of Holly-on-Hearth late the next morning. Everyone was feeling the after-effects of the troll attack and too little sleep the night before. Blaise and Hayden, in particular, lagged. Ginny had re-located Hayden's shoulder and done a fairly clean job of it, but the joint seemed to hurt him constantly. He didn't complain much, Tristan had to admit, but even with Dorian carrying both their packs, the pain Hayden felt was evident.

Blaise was apparently still sore from jumping the troll. "How'd you feel if you'd jumped ten meters and straddled a rock?" she said with a weak attempt at humor when Tristan asked if she was okay. "That was a solid troll." Blaise seemed to be healing fast but she walked in a delicate way, as though she had slivers in her thighs.

They stopped on the outskirts of Holly-on-Hearth long enough to remove their long black cloaks. Tristan didn't have much experience with Muggles, but she thought the clothing the group wore under their cloaks was probably passable in a Muggle village. Still, she noticed they were drawing a lot of stares as they moved down the street. Or rather, the boys were. Tristan bit down a sneer – the small-town Muggle girls apparently hadn't seen the likes of Hayden, Dorian, Draco, or Harry in a very long time. The stares were just short of rude. Perversely fascinated, Tristan watched a continual parade of teenagers, even older women, winking and "hmming" in evident appreciation.

"Merlin, how common can you get?" she muttered. She supposed they were nice-looking boys, but honestly! Tristan stared at the back of Hayden's head as they followed Cedric through the outdoor market in the center of town, across ancient cobblestone lanes, and through a maze of narrow streets. She owed him some gratitude, she reasoned. He had probably saved her life, if not her Quidditch career. It made her feel guilty, that he'd been hurt helping her. More than that, his actions confused her.

Hayden hated her. In fact, he'd told her more than once just what he thought of her. He'd tell anyone who'd listen that she was dim, that she was a liar, that she was common. So why had he bothered to save her? By all accounts, she wasn't worth it. The only explanation was that he cared enough about the feelings of the others, some of whom did care about her very much. Hayden was one of Ced's best mates, after all, and Ced would be heartbroken if anything happened to Tristan.

Frustrated, Tristan cast her eyes around for her brother. "How much further is it, Ced?" she asked when she caught up with him. As usual, he led the group, his gait confident and unworried. She took his arm and leaned on him.

"Not much further, love. There's a little café just up and around this corner. Our first Portkey is on the opposite side of the village, a few kilometers out."

"Food!" Dorian said, almost groaning with relief. "Real, hot food!"

"Don't get too cozy," Cedric warned, rubbing Tristan's cold hands between his large warm ones and ignoring all the Muggle girls staring at him. "We don't have long here."

"_That's_ a pity," Draco muttered. Tristan saw him eyeing a Muggle shop window distastefully. She could see the reluctant curiosity in his expression as well, and reckoned he must never have seen a working television before. Tristan had no use for television – why watch what you could be doing yourself? However, Ian had introduced her to Disney films the previous summer and Tristan had to admit she did kind of enjoy them.

"I don't care how long we're here, as long as I get a proper meal," Dorian whined, rubbing his stomach as though he hadn't eaten for weeks. "Could do with some chocolate right now as well. I could've sworn I bunged a couple bars of Honeydukes' someplace before we left ..."

Tristan gave him a monumentally guilty look and glanced at Ginny. Ginny glanced back and they both cradled their packs protectively.

"Stay away," Ginny warned.

"You two have it?" the big redhead asked, casting heartsick puppy's eyes back and forth between them. "How could you hold out on me, your beloved nephew and devilishly handsome cousin? Stealing candy from a _child_ – "

"You're the biggest child I've ever seen," Hayden mutterd, rolling his eyes.

"Touch it and die, beloved nephew or not," came Ginny's flat warning.

"You ate all the chocolate out of my stocking three Christmases ago," Tristan said, glowering and hiding on Harry's other side.

"I just want to get out of here," Blaise announced, glaring around at all the women oggling the boys. Some of them had wedding rings, for Merlin's sake! Classless Muggle bints.

Tristan's thoughts were in line with her mother's, though she kept an eye on Dorian, just in case he made a dive for her rucksack. Her grouchy train of thought came to a jarring halt as she realized she was also peeking over her glasses at Hayden's denim clad legs.

"_Hypocrite_," she muttered to herself, and pushed her specs determinedly up the bridge of her nose.

She paid little attention to the well-preserved Victorian-era buildings around them as the group continued up the street. She was more interested in not looking at or thinking about _him_. Hayden bloody Malfoy. And he wasn't even in top form! He was grimy and tousled, irritable and rumpled, and…and absolutely mouth_-_watering.

Merlin's pants, her brain was at it again!

Tristan pulled off her glasses and distractedly cleaned them with a dry handkerchief from the cuff of her leather coat. She almost dropped the rucksack and could feel Dorian's eyes on it. She sent him a half-blind dirty look, though her stupid mind kept returning itself, like a boomerang, to stupid Hayden. She was seeing things; it had to be exhaustion making her stare at the git as she'd never done before. Possibly, it was over-exposure to the harsh elements. She was getting sick, that was all. A fever. Pneumonia. Maybe psychosis.

Tristy shivered as Hayden, at whom she'd found herself staring again, slid a half-curious, half-scornful look back over his shoulder.

She stuck her tongue out at him, shoving her specs back on. His answering smirk made her blink and miss a step. Hayden chuckled, quietly mocking her embarrassment, and she ground her teeth, giving herself a sound mental shaking. Hefting her rucksack higher on her back, she maneuvered herself so she was caught up to Harry again.

"Positively sick-making, all of this," she grumbled as they passed a group of uniform-clad school girls. She gave her long black plait, which hung over her shoulder, a good tug.

"All of what?" Harry asked absently, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed all the girls staring at you lot. They've been drooling since we got here," Tristan said crossly, nodding at a pair of late twenty-somethings. The two women had been watching Harry and whispering. When he caught the eye of one, she blushed and giggled. Tristan's lip curled. She could see the carats winking on both women's left ring fingers from where she stood.

"Er…" Harry said, looking quickly away and tugging at his earlobe. It was a nervous habit Tristan recognized.

"They _wish_," Draco broke in. "Muggle slags – they don't have a prayer."

"If only I had time." Dorian sighed, sending a fleeting look over his shoulder. He glanced at his uncle. "Some of us aren't snobs, you know."

"Typical Weasley attitude," Draco retorted. "Anything with breasts ..."

"Sod right off, Malfoy!" Ginny snapped.

Tristan glanced at her brother. Cedric only shrugged, as if the attention of female multitudes were nothing new. "Have some standards, Ian," he threw over his shoulder. "It doesn't matter if they're Muggles, but this lot are obviously tarts."

Tristan shared a dirty look with her fellow female travelers, feeling an itch to strangle her brother. Ginny and Blaise rolled their eyes in return.

"Just typical, right?" Blaise said.

"Six brothers, anyone?" Ginny countered. Tristan gave her a sympathetic look. She only had to put up with one, after all.

"Jealous, Tristy?" Hayden turned back to look down at her as he walked.

"Of what? _You_?" Tristan gave him her best sneer and gave Ginny a nudge. "Hate to say it, Aunt, but that one's dead from the neck up."

Hayden's lip curled.

"You're complaining about _him_?" Ginny gestured wildly at Draco, who was examining his hair in a shop window up ahead. "Look at where the poor kid came from – he's enough to make a saint swear."

"Mum," Hayden whined, giving her a piteous look.

"Modesty is a virtue, young man," Ginny scolded. Her eyes widened. "Oh, my god!" she wailed a minute later – Harry and Dorian winced at her shrill tone. "I sounded just like my mum!" She shuffled along, looking miserable. "I was always meant to be a middle-aged mother," she groaned, kicking stones out of her path dejectedly. "I'm only sixteen, for Merlin's sake!"

"Ah, Mum, don't say that," Hayden said quickly, falling back to walk beside her. "You never act like a middle-aged mother – well, most of the time." He scowled. "Except when you give me lectures about moral responsibility and so on."

"Sounds like Weasley to me," Draco said as he stepped away from the window, apparently satisfied with the state of his hair.

"I'm prematurely old!" Ginny howled.

"Stop provoking her, you git!" Blaised hissed, slapping Draco's shoulder. "At this rate, she'll be whining all the way to the Cotswolds!"

It was a mercy when they finally found the little cafe Cedric remembered, just on the opposite end of town.

"Peasant fair, how charming," Draco muttered.

"You want to eat, Malfoy, or you want to sit outside and watch us through the window?" Harry demanded, looking totally merciless. He led the way into the cafe, which Tristan thought looked pleasant and smelled mouth-watering. When they were settled around a large square table, Tristan shrugged out of her leather jacket. She sighed as she leaned back in her chair, then glanced up as Hayden hissed through his teeth. Her godbrother, unfortunately seated directly across the table from her, winced as Dorian accidentally jostled his shoulder. He tucked the look away, rolling his shoulder irritably. Then he noticed Tristan staring (something he was catching her at a lot lately, she thought) and sneered. By sheer force of will, she kept her head up even though she really wanted to hide behind her menu.

Hayden answered with a cold smile that made her want to stick her wand up his nose and fire off about fifty hexes. He acted so bloody superior all the time. Honestly, _he_ should have been the one in Slytherin.

Unlike Hayden, who had been born with steely nerves and wintry self-assurance, Tristan found herself struggling with every aspect of Slytherin life. She had to learn to act calm, to seem unruffled by the nasty jeers about being Harry Potter's daughter. She had to prove herself time and again on the Quidditch pitch, her dives and turns and climbs becoming more reckless, dangerous, and spectacular. The risks were worth results. For one thing, being the star of Slytherin's Quidditch team gave her the status she so badly needed to survive in Slytherin. For another, it gave her a place where she was sure she belonged and always would. The pitch was like a second home.

Tristan put down her menu, fisting her hands in her lap and keeping her eyes on anything but Hayden. He had the perfect parents, was in what everyone thought was the best house at Hogwarts, and had a hundred people he could call true friends. Tristan, contrarily, lived a rather stilted home life, had been sorted into what everyone thought of as the worst house at Hogwarts, and lived with about a hundred people who'd best be described as team mates. They were in it together: winning the House Cup, winning at Quidditch, winning in class. Most of Slytherin House considered each other close enemies. Tristan only had a few friends she trusted and cared for in Slytherin.

She suddenly realized she was glaring at Hayden. The resentful glint in her eyes must have had a physical pull because Hayden looking up suddenly, frowning as his gaze turning questioning.

For a moment, Tristan caught a glimpse of the old friend she'd grown up with. He wasn't glaring – he was silently asking what was wrong. She blinked past the steadily growing haze of her temper and, at last, looked away. He had hurt her more brutally and painfully than anyone ever had and she couldn't – wouldn't – forgive that.

She bit down hard on her trembling lip. Why was she suddenly so sensitive to him? Most of the time, she could easily ignore his existence. Possibly, it was the enforced time they were spending together all of a sudden. Unlike family gatherings and school, she couldn't avoid him now.

In an effort to find something else to think about, she studied the cafe. The low ceiling was crisscrossed with dark wood beams and the rough plastered walls were whitewashed. Old-fashioned picture rails, set high on the walls, boasted antique mirrors in chipped gilt frames and what looked to be very old Muggle photographs of the village itself, in various stages of growth. She wondered what it must be like to be a Muggle. She glanced around at some of the other diners. As her father said, they didn't look any different, the Muggles. But they were different – totally and completely outcast from the incredible world in which Tristan had been raised.

Their waitress arrived at last. Dorian wasted no time ordering half the menu, something that would have made her gape if she hadn't known him all her life. As it was, she had to hide a grin as the waitress's carefully penciled, plucked, and tweezed eyebrows climbed steadily up her forehead.

" – brown toast with butter and marmalade, two fried eggs, sausage, bacon, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, porridge, and pumpkin juice."

"_Pumpkin_ juice?"

Tristan nudged Dorian's foot under the table, raising her eyebrows at him. Merlin, he'd spent time in the Muggle world with his grandparents. He knew better!

"Oh, uh…orange juice, if you've got it," the redhead backpedaled, hastily closing his menu and handing it back with an apologetic smile.

"Small or large?" The woman had been looking bored until Dorian smiled. Now she looked alert and, to Tristan's eye, a little flustered.

Dorian's grin widened, his bright blue eyes twinkling. "Better make it small…got to watch my figure, you know." He settled back, large hands folded over his flat stomach. The twenty-something waitress looked a little dizzy. Tristan wouldn't be surprised if her friend received extra large portions. Or the waitress's telephone number. Again, she wondered what was going on with the Muggle women in this village – they seemed to go completely brainless around wizards.

The waitress almost forgot to get the rest of their orders, but eventually she wandered off toward the kitchens, looking punch-drunk. Tristan plucked off her spectacles and gave them a second polish on her napkin. Without meaning to, she caught a look at Hayden, who was rolling his shoulder again, alternately scowling and wincing. She tore her gaze away and tried to focus on the conversations cropping up around the table.

"Don't tell me you're going to eat all that," Blaise was saying to Dorian with a curled lip. She sat between Cedric and Harry at the large table. A few days ago, Tristan thought, she would have looked uncomfortable there. Now she sat relaxed, as though between her son and his father she felt safe.

Dorian shrugged his broad shoulders beneath his battered denim jacket. He looked at Blaise as if she were just being silly. "Course I am. Wouldn't have ordered it if I wasn't."

"You've already eaten just about everything from the packs! How can you be so bloody hungry all the time?" Blaise stared at him.

"Is it my fault that my body's still growing?"

"Too bad your brain hasn't caught up," Hayden said with a small smile. His husky laugh as he dodged Dorian's wadded up napkin tugged at a spot in Tristan's chest, as did his hiss of discomfort as he jarred his shoulder again.

"Sorry!" Dorian bit his lip and fluttered his hands helplessly around Hayden's arm.

"Don't worry, mate. It's fine." The blond managed a smile, nudging Dorian, and Tristan's gaze dropped like a rock to the yorkstone floor. Any one of her housemates back at Hogwarts would have been thrilled the Gryffindor Seeker was injured. All Tristan felt was a tangle of guilt in her chest.

"I still can't believe we got away from those trolls," Harry was saying to Ginny in a low voice. "I mean, facing one was bad enough, but _four_!" He rolled his water glass slowly between his palms. "I had no idea woodland trolls were even larger than mountain trolls!"

"Thinking of your first year?" Ginny asked, nudging him.

"What happened your first year?" Hayden wanted to know.

"Dad and Uncle Ron fought a mountain troll to save Aunt Hermione," Tristan said into her water glass. It had been one of her favorite stories growing up.

"Sounds like them," Draco said, his lip curling. "Bloody hero wannabes."

"Who's a wannabe?" Harry said coolly, with a little smirk of his own. He turned serious a moment later. "It was luck that got us away from that troll first year," he said. "I have no idea how we all got away this time." He threw a look at Tristan's mother that Tristan couldn't read.

"And people ask me why I hate surprises," Blaise muttered, returning his look with one equally unreadable. She rested her chin wearily on her hand for a moment before recoiling and getting to her feet. "_Eau de Troll_," she said. "That is really vile. I'm for the washroom; I'll be back after I've boiled myself."

Ginny was eying her hands as well. She gave a tentative sniff and flinched. "I think I'll come with."

"Me, too. Be there in a second." Tristan paused before turning to Harry. "Do you think Red Robes was behind the troll attack?"

Harry's dark brows drew together. "I don't know," he said at last. "But like Malfoy said, it was an awfully strange coincidence, those trolls being so far from of their usual hang outs."

Cedric shifted in his seat, leaning his jaw on his hand, his elbow on the chair arm. Unlike Blaise, he didn't seem to care what his hands smelled like. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was a setup. And if it makes you feel better, Tris, I reckon we're making _him_ awfully nervous." He threw a look at the loos, where Ginny and Blaise had just disappeared. "Or, rather, Mum is."

"Far be it from me to interrupt, since I'm _so_ enjoying my singular dining experience among the common folk," Draco cut in, "but what makes you two so sure that Red Robes is a _he_?"

Harry shrugged. "Didn't he sound like a man to you, Malfoy? I mean, you heard him, he spoke right before we left – "

"Voices can be easily altered, Potter, as well as appearances – _you_ know that." Draco speared Harry with a glacial look. Tristan wondered what bit of old history he was thinking about.

"Man or woman, it doesn't matter," Cedric said. His voice was soft with a steel edge. "If _he_ or _she_ catches up with us, I'm sure we'll all be _very_ dead. Red Robes's actions aren't exactly those of someone with a stable mind."

"_All_ of us, dead? Speak for yourself." Draco's eyes narrowed. "Anyway, I can't fear someone who'd dress with such obvious bad taste. _Red_ robes? I mean, what _is_ that? Tacky and conspicuous."

"Maybe the eerie black robes he usually wears to stalk and murder people are at the cleaners," Tristan said, rolling her eyes at her uncle as their food arrived. He gave her an unimpressed look that reminded her of his son. She readjusted the jacket slung over her chair and was turning back to the table when she caught the eye of one of the busboys helping the server lay out their meals. The dark-haired boy looked to be around her age. She met his eye and gave him a small smirk. He almost dropped Dorian's eggs in his lap, his eyes traveling from her tight tee shirt to her tighter jeans.

Tristy would have stopped with the grin had she not seen the look in Hayden's wintry eyes. Instead, she knocked her cloth napkin off the table and, with a feigned look of embarrassment, turned slightly, and deliberately bent over from the waist to retrieve it. Bending over in skinny jeans was no easy feat, and she ended up having to hold her breath – but the outcome was well worth the minor discomfort.

She felt a grin tug at her lips at the resulting crash from behind her and took her seat. One of Dorian's plates of food lay face-down on the floor and the busboy's eyes were glued on Tristan. She caught a look at Hayden's expression and smiled beatifically. "I'm so clumsy," she said, picking up her fork.

"What the hell are you wearing?" he hissed across the table over the tinkling noises of the mess being cleaned up. "What were you thinking, coming out in that? Do you have any idea how tight – " He cut himself off and took a breath through his nose.

"Admiring the view, Malfoy?" Tristy said, catching her lower lip in her teeth. "Get in line."

"Those skins of yours don't leave a lot to the imagination is what he means," Draco drawled. He yelped at the backhanded slap across the head he received from Harry. "Watch it, Potty."

"What, you think I dress like this for _you _lot?" Tristy yawned, and then frowned, as if she were completely bored by the whole discussion. "Merlin, talk about an ego! I dress this way because I like it, not because I give a damn about anyone else. _Men!_" She let her lip curl. "They're comfortable, although," she added, noticing the approaching busboy. "I have to be careful with skinnies. The knicker line can be murder." Another satisfying crash.

"You aren't wearing any _knickers_?!" Hayden hissed.

Harry made a funny croaking noise and slid down in his seat as other café-goers turned their heads to see where all the noise was coming from. He splayed a hand over his face as Draco sniggered at his son.

Tristy met Hayden's eye and stood slowly. Sure, she wore the clothes she loved because _she _loved them. The attention from certain boys was an added bonus. "Not that it's any of your business, Malfoy."

He leaned back in his chair as though she'd thrown a snake at him and glared up at her. "Anyway," she said. "I'm not the only one in tight trousers."

At that moment, Blaise and Ginny returned, their coats thrown over their arms. As she'd expected, Harry and Draco went still.

"I could eat a moose," Ginny announced, throwing her jacket over a chair and leaning over the table to inhale the wonderful smell rising from it. Draco, Tristan noticed with some amusement, had tipped back in his chair to admire the view.

"Thank Merlin, my stomach is sticking to my spine," Blaise said, sitting gingerly down in the chair beside Harry. She caught him staring and said, "What, Potter? Do I have something on my face?"

"What do you think?" Tristan cut in, addressing her mum and aunt. "The lads think badly of our trousers."

"Our trousers?" Blaise repeated, snorting as she helped herself to a bit of everything within reach. "See if I give a damn what anyone thinks."

"Not as if we had much of a choice anyway," Ginny pointed out. "Not that I'm not grateful for the loan, Tristan," she added hastily. She frowned, trying and failing to pinch a bit of the material wrapped around her thigh. She missed the intensity of the look Draco was giving her legs. "Zabini, I think you ought to have a talk with her," Ginny went on, her eyes sparkling a bit as she began to dish up food for herself. "Not one stitch of sensible clothing to be found in that girls' wardrobe. Leather as far as the eye can see."

"Oy!" Tristan said indignantly. "We're all wearing jeans. They're all mine, I swear."

"Only pairs I've seen," Ginny said with a mischievous wink. "As her mum and godmother, I really think we should speak to her, Zabini."

Blaise only shook her head. "Not me." She gave Tristan a grudging look. "I happen to think she has excellent taste."

Tristy stared at her with a surprised smile. "Thanks. Mum," she added, trying it out. She couldn't remember ever talking to her mum. The word sounded alien. She liked it. Blaise looked surprised as well and went hastily back to her food.

"You know, it's a good thing you and Ced have got the cash, Uncle Harry," Dorian said out of the blue. "I wouldn't put it passed one of the Slytherin lot to pull a runner."

"Oy!" Tristan snapped, slugging his shoulder.

Draco only sneered across the table. "As poor as your family is, Weasley, I'm not surprised you're fussed about money."

Dorian stopped mid-chew and gave his uncle a bewildered look. "Huh?"

"Malfoy, you git, Ron built Hermione a tree house mansion and he's an Unspeakable," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Obviously, they're not poor."

"He's right," Hayden said, pointing at his cousin with his fork. "The Weasleys have nearly as many assets as we do."

Draco looked crestfallen. "If they're so bloody rich, why is that one wearing rags?" he wanted to know. "Look at his jeans – they're in tatters at the cuffs, there are _holes_ in the knees, and that jacket of his looks like it's been soaking in bleach." He looked down at his own stylish, heavy black jumper, thrown over a black tee, and his black jeans – all on loan from Hayden, of course.

"Rags!" Dorian swallowed his food quickly and said loudly, "These _aren't_ rags! Do you know how much I _paid_ for these?" He put his fork down and turned out the collar of his jacket. "This is designer."

"You mean they're _supposed_ to look that way?" Draco looked horrified. Tristan bit down a laugh – her uncle Draco had had a similar reaction the first time Dorian had showed up at Red's Hollow wearing a Goblin '81 number. "You paid actual money for _damaged_ clothes?"

Dorian huffed and went back to his food. "Rags, indeed!"

Tristan grinned. Remembering her soiled hands, she got to her feet and wandered in the direction of the loo. Her grin widened when her swagger caused two more crashes from the vicinity of the kitchens. When she glanced back at the table, Hayden was glaring at her again.

**)PvsM(**

"All right, this is it. Our first Portkey."

Still huffing from the tortuous march to the top of a hill on the outskirts of town, Ginny squinted through burning, tired eyes at the object Cedric was pointing at. It was sitting at the base of some timeworn boulders. She frowned. Then her nose wrinkled. "Really, Cedric, that's disgusting."

Cedric threw her a grin and bent his head over the map Harry had opened. Not the Marauder's Map, but a map of the local area provided by an overeager waiter.

"What is it – oh, gross!" Blaise peered over Ginny's shoulder, shuddering. "I am _not_ touching that. Didn't we just boil our hands?"

"That _is_ pretty nasty, Ced – what possessed you to use petrified dragon dung?" Hayden's nose wrinkled as he absently rotated his arm. Dorian still had his pack, Ginny was relieved to see. She wished she'd thought to bring some healing herbs with her. As it stood, she didn't have time to hunt any up in the woods.

"I was in a hurry. Give me a break, will you? Besides, it's not something someone would be curious about touching if they came across it normally, is it?"

"_Bleh_, Ced. Just _bleh_." Tristan gave her brother a shove and then let her attention wander. "…Oh wow! Look at this!" Ginny followed her to the edge of the hill, where a beautiful view of the town and surrounding countryside lay below them, bathed in morning sunlight. Ginny sighed. She suspected it would have been even more beautiful if four Unspeakables and a murderer hadn't been after them.

"How far is this one going to take us?" Draco's voice drifted to Ginny across the hilltop, his impatience apparent. Ginny saw his wand slip from inside his sleeve, and he began twirling in through his fingers. He had a lot of nervous habits, she was beginning to realize. Twiddling with the wand, tugging at his hair, running his fingertips over the inside of his left forearm.

"This one will take us to Baggeridge Woods in the west midlands," Cedric was saying. "We can take another from there to London – avoiding Diagon Alley, obviously. Which is unhandy, because the way Dorian was eating this morning – "

"Oy, lay off about the food – !" Dorian said irritably from where he stood with Ginny and Tristan, admiring the view and occasionally trying to get close enough to Tristan to cop a feel. Eventually, she got irritated enough to slug him in the shoulder. He howled. "My whole arm's gone dead, Tristy, what the hell!"

"Next time you go for my bum, remember this moment," Tristan said coolly, slugging his other arm in passing. He howled again and turned to follow. She was heading for Cedric so Dorian detoured toward Hayden, looking martyred.

"We're going to need to change some more money somewhere." Cedric had set the map on one of the flat rocks, Harry and Draco leaning in on either side. "I haven't anything set up anywhere near Glastonbury, though, so we'll take a train to Reading, and either bus or hoof it from there. With any luck - of which we've had _very_ little, and can probably expect to have even _less _as we get closer – we get to Glastonbury in a couple of days."

"Sounds like a plan," Draco surprised everyone by agreeing, but then spoilt it a moment later by adding, "but I'm not showing _my_ face on any rubbishy, stinking Muggle bus."

"We'll deal with your fear of anything Muggle when we get there, Malfoy," Harry said dryly. Ginny grinned to herself. She loved watching Harry push Draco's buttons.

"Fear? I'm not afraid of Muggles, Potter!" Draco spat. "I'm just thankfully aware that they're beneath me." He gave Harry a chilly smile, and gave his wand a dangerous swipe through the air. "They should be afraid of me."

"Then I reckon you'll ride the bus, Malfoy," Harry said, rolling up the village map and tucking it away.

"Whatever, Potter. Let's just get the hell on with it. I'm sick of this exciting mystical adventure." He shoved his wand back up his sleeve.

"This isn't exactly my idea of a vacation either, you know," Ginny pointed out. "You're not the only unhappy about all this."

"Nobody asked your opinion, Weasley," he snapped, nose in the air. "You know this is the easy part, don't you?" He motioned around the hills. "Getting there. Avalon, if it even exists, is going to be about as easy to find as a virgin the night after N.E.W.T.s."

Ginny bit her lip, and then ruined her hostile expression with a snort of laughter. Draco rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. He walked a few feet away to stare out over the valley, but she could have sworn she saw half a smile on his lips before he turned his back.

"Crikey, he's always crying about something, isn't he?" Dorian rolled his eyes at Hayden as both boys joined Ginny by the rock.

"He is," Ginny agreed, though her smile remained. Who'd have thought Draco could make a joke someone besides himself could laugh at?

"Gather round and listen up!" Cedric's voice echoed around the hill and slowly the group reassembled by the rock. He stood over the gray, knee-high mass of petrified dung, which everyone else was giving a wide birth. "All right, on the count of three, everyone will touch the Portkey at the same time and – "

"No way, that's _revolting._" Blaise backed off immediately, putting her hands behind her. Ginny couldn't blame her.

"Sure, it's foul, but what else are we going to do?" Tristan asked. "Wait around for Ced to come up with another Portkey?"

"Yes, that plan works for me," Blaise said calmly.

"Look, it's practically solid rock," Harry cajoled.

"Solid poo, you mean," Blaise said, her nose wrinkling.

"Sometime before I'm ancient, Zabini," Draco cut in. "Honestly, and you call me a snob."

"All right, enough already!" Cedric bellowed, looking more irritable than Ginny had ever seen him. "I'll touch the sodding stuff and the rest of you can hold on to me."

"You're a good boy," Blaise said, patting his head. Cedric glowered at her.

Everyone formed a reluctant circle around Cedric, and clasped hands. Dorian was on her left, and Ginny found Draco on her right. He frowned at her when she hesitated giving him her hand. He raised his eyebrows mockingly. She bit her cheek and took his hand with a heavy sigh, deciding to look the other way when he laced their fingers together.

**)BW(**

"Does anybody else feel like we're playing a lopsided game of Red Rover?" Dorian asked as they prepared to go. Harry didn't laugh as Hayden, Cedric, and Tristan did at the childhood reference. He stood, hands clasped with Blaise and Hayden, feeling suddenly ill.

He hadn't really let himself think about it before but this was the first time he'd willingly used a Portkey since –

"You all right, Potter? You're face is as green as your eyes," Blaise needled quietly from beside him.

"I'm fine," Harry murmured, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, trying to calm his ragged breathing. He was being stupid.

"Three, two, one ..." Cedric's voice seemed a long way off – he felt a sickening jerk behind his navel, heard the whirl of wind as the Portkey yanked them all south. Everything was okay, there was no more Voldemort; no searing, unendurable pain in his scar. There was no traitorous Wormtail waiting on the other end of this Portkey to murder Cedric Diggory…

"_Stop being noble," said Harry irritably. "Just take it, and then we can get out of here..."_

"_We'll take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it."_

"_Let's just take it together…"_

"_Kill the spare."_

Cedric –

"Harry!"

"Harry…take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents…"

"Daddy, we're here!"

Harry couldn't peel his eyes open, mind stuck in like a reel, running that memory over and over again.

"_Harry!_ _Harry!"_

"What's happened? What's wrong with him?"

"Oh, god, is he all right?"

"My god – Diggory!"

"Stop being stupid, Potter – "

"Diggory's dead!" "I said stop it!"

A loud _smack_ followed by an intensely sharp sting finally brought Harry back into the moment. His eyes opened and he sat straight up. Ignoring several cries of surprise as several people threw themselves backwards out of his way, Harry looked sharply around.

"Ow!" He scowled, glaring at them all. "Who slapped me?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Tristan, who knelt near him, jerked a thumb at Blaise, who knelt on the ground next to her, an irritable expression in her purple eyes.

She gave him a sparkling white smile, rather like the smile of a satisfied shark. "You were scaring people, you attention hog," she said. "Draco was going spare."

"You disgust me, Zabini," Malfoy said. He was several feet away, examining his fingernails.

"Was that necessary?" Harry demanded, rubbing his cheek. It burned under his cold hand.

"What happened?" Hayden asked him, looking really worried. Harry saw Malfoy's lip curl.

"Nothing," Harry muttered. "It's – it's just been a while since I used a Portkey, that's all. Sorry I worried you."

"You sure you're all right?" Cedric asked. Harry stared at his son for a long moment. Cedric Potter, Cedric Diggory. He shuddered.

"I'm fine," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. He seemed fine. Not dizzy or anything. _At least I'm not going to faint like some pathetic ninny_, he thought sourly.

Ginny appeared beside him. She didn't say anything, but rested a hand on his arm and gave him a look that was at once sympathetic and bracing.

"It was nothing," he repeated, trying a smile.

"It's always something with you, Potter," Malfoy countered, sneering and glancing around. "So, little Potter. Nice woods you've found for us. Apart from the total lack of trees, the bare and rocky terrain – oh, I'm sorry, did you say a wood or a barren wasteland?"

"Sod right off," Cedric muttered. He had the Marauder's Map spread on a flat rock. Wood, Harry thought, was not really an accurate word for the landscape in which they stood. As Malfoy had pointed out, there were no trees, no greenery anywhere to be seen. The land around them was a stretch of barren brown earth, sprinkled with some very determined patches of brown grass. The ground was mostly gravel and dirt.

"Ced, where are we?" Dorian asked nervously, toying with the strap of Hayden's backpack, which he still carried.

"Not the green woodlands I was hoping for, that's for damned sure," Cedric said under his breath, studying the map intently. "I just don't understand what – oh, bloody hell!"

"What?" The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end as he went to join his son.

"I don't wish to alarm," Cedric said slowly, looking around at them all, "but someone's tampered with my ruddy Portkey!"

"What do you mean, tampered with?" Blaise's eyes widened.

"We're not where we're supposed to be, not even close. _Damn it_!" Cedric's voice rose a notch. "We're so far away from where we were I don't even know where the hell we are!"

"I don't suppose a sudden appearance of a herd of dragons would tell you where we are?" Dorian whimpered. He'd found a perch on one of the larger rocks and was staring, wide-eyed, into the distance.

"It's a _doom_ of dragons, you insignificant twit," Draco snapped. Then he frowned. "Wait, what?"

"Looks like a bloody herd to me!"

Draco scrambled up the rock and his eyes bulged. "Oh," he said faintly. "We're going to die."

Cedric was almost nose-to-nose with the Marauder's Map. He gave a strangled curse and stuffed it into his pocket.

That was when Harry heard it, or rather, _felt_ it.

"This way!" Cedric led them, with all possible speed, for an outcropping of rock that looked like a downsized version of Stone Henge. Harry looked down at his feet as the earth began to rumble and shake, and the air came alive with the sounds of massive footfalls …

"Here be dragons," Blaise murmured, as the horizon was obscured by scaly death.

**)PvsM(**

"Oh, Goddess, get us out of this and I swear I'll never lie again!" Blaise prayed under her breath. She pressed flat against a wall of rock not fifty meters from where a group of black dragons snuffled and roared, hissed and growled.

Draco, leaning against the rock next to her and white as a sheet, gave a slightly hysterical snort of laughter. "You're lying right now."

"Shh! Will you two keep it down?" Cedric motioned violently.

"You should be more worried about them scenting us than hearing us, little Potter," Draco retorted as he peered around the rock. He managed a superior look. "_Everyone_ knows dragons can't hear worth a damn."

"If you know so bloody much about dragons, _Draco_," Potter said, sounding like he wanted to break something, "then why don't you climb up that rock you're leaning on and see what the hell they're doing out there."

Draco stiffened at the challenge but, true to form, he didn't back down. "Fine with me. I'd much rather have my head seared to a crisp than hide like scared little girls with you lot all day." Draco was starting up the rock face when Blaise grabbed his arm. He looked at her hand and rolled his eyes.

"Going to make a teary scene, Zabini?"

"Right, and pixies are going to fly out of my arse."

Draco snickered. "Weirder things have happened."

"Just do me a favor. Don't get yourself fried and leave me alone with Gryffindors."

The blond let go of one of his hand holds long enough to send her a mocking salute. She stood back a bit, and watched until he'd climbed the five meters to the top of the rock, and held her breath as he disappeared over the top.

"Well, Uncle?" Cedric hissed after a long minute. "What do you see? Damn it, are you alive?"

There was no answer. Blaise's palms went clammy.

"Hell, I'll go see what Uncle Draco's up to – probably making a deal with those dragons to have us all for an evening fry-up if they let _him_ go," Dorian growled, dropping his pack and Hayden's and swiftly scaling the wall.

"Ian, be careful!" Ginny stared up at him with wide eyes.

"Not to worry, Aunty," he said cheerfully, pausing to pat her head before continuing upward.

"Cedric, listen!" Potter was talking now, in that low, earnest voice he got whenever he was about to suggest something stupid, usually involving self-sacrifice. Blaise wanted to strangle him.

"I've got a plan," he went on, but she cut him off.

"One that involves you getting the dragons attention while the rest of us make a run for it, no doubt," she said scathingly. "Potter, do you want to die?"

Tired eyes settled on her. "Why? Would you miss me if I were gone, Zabini?"

She scowled and looked away.

"Look, whatever the plan is, it has to happen now," Cedric said. "Out with it."

"Oy, Ced!" came an over-loud whisper from above, along with a spray of pebbles.

Blaise turned her attention away from those too-observant green eyes and squinted up.

"Ian, you all right, mate?" Hayden called up, furiously rotating his shoulder. "Do you see anything?"

"Nope, just your dad's arse. And that sight does nothing to fill me with joy, I can tell you." Hayden snickered. Draco could be heard grumbling a rude response, even as Tristan giggled and Blaise added to herself, "Although a nice arse, it is."

"Enough about Malfoy's arse!" Potter called, looking faintly sick at the thought. "Dragons, people, where are they?"

"Stupid things are just wandering around," Dorian whisper-shouted back. "There's a right mess of them, I can tell you, and – "

"Forget this!" Blaise seized hold of the rough black rock and ignored the pain still sticking into her thighs. "I'm not waiting around for them to smoke us out. Make room, I'm coming up there!"

"Think she's got the right idea," Cedric said slowly to his father. "Higher ground, just like with the trolls?"

"What about Hayden?" Tristan spoke up. When everyone looked at her in amazement, she gave the collective whole a disgusted look. "If Malfoy gets stuck up there because of his gimpy arm, higher ground won't make a hell of a lot of difference, will it?"

"Your concern for my well-being is so touching, Potter," Hayden said, sounding annoyed. "I'm fine," he said to Potter. "I can do it."

"No, she's right, Den," Cedric said. "Stay put. If we're going to get out of here, we'll have to leave from the ground anyway. Tris," he said, "stay with him."

"Oh, Ced, honestly!" Tristan whined, even as Hayden growled a disgusted expletive.

"Park it, young lady!" he said sharply. She glared at him but made no move to follow as the others began to climb different rocks around the little outcropping.

"Next time you're showing concern for my safety, just forget it, Potter," Hayden groused from the base of the rock Blaise was climbing.

"Oh, don't worry," Tristan said with icy scorn that Blaise thought might be masking some other feeling. "I'll be leaving you behind next time."

"I saved your life, you twit!"

"I wish you hadn't bothered!" she retorted. "Just – leave me alone."

Blaise glanced down. Tristan had her back to Hayden and was staring across the flat plain beyond the rock formation. Blaise saw her lip tremble and felt a totally foreign twist in her chest.

**)PvsM(**

"Let's have a look at the map," Dorian said when Cedric reached the top of the rock. It was crowded and quite high up. Cedric kept looking down to make sure Tristan was safe. He saw her standing with her back to Hayden, her arms wrapped protectively around herself as she stared out at the dragons. Honestly, he should have just let her climb!

"Why? Bloody obvious where we are, isn't it?" Draco waved a hand at the dragons, who were moving progressively closer to their hiding spot. "They're Hebridean Blacks. See the purple eyes, the shallow ridges along the back, the arrow-shaped tail?"

"Who cares what kind of dragons they are? This isn't a petting zoo," Blaise muttered.

"No," Draco said with grim certainty. "It's a breeding ground."

"How do you reckon this is a breeding ground, Malfoy?" Harry asked, one eye on the map and the other on the dragons.

"Have you actually read _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_?" Draco shook his head. "Why am I even asking; you're practically illiterate." Harry gave him an unimpressed look and Draco went on, "If you _had _read it, you'd know that the wizard clan MacFusty have been watching over this breed for centuries, keeping their line strong. They also contain the entire population on a Scottish island, to protect people and protect the dragons. It stands to reason that this – " he finished with wilted triumph – " is their breeding ground. And we've unintentionally invaded it." Draco gave Harry a shadowed glance. "Do I need to remind you how protective dragons get when they've got eggs, Potter?"

Cedric watched Harry go white.

"Bloody hell." Dorian looked ill. Cedric hoped he wouldn't be sick over the side of the rock because Tristan would scream the place down.

"Looks like Red Robes really wants us dead." Blaise pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Not that there was any doubt before," she added in an undertone. Unlike everyone else, she wasn't looking at the map or the dragons. She was scanning the ground near the rock formation, as though looking for something.

"Cedric, can you reset the Portkey?" she asked suddenly.

Cedric blinked, suddenly realizing what she must be looking for. A moment later, he saw the spot where he'd dropped it. It was about ten meters from their hiding spot and the dragons were nearly on it. "I think I could," he said slowly. "But how am I supposed to get to it? I mean, without using magic and having the Unspeakables all over us like a rash?"

Harry suddenly twisted around and fished in his rucksack. He withdrew the shrunken Firebolt tucked away at the bottom.

"I think we can risk a tiny bit of magic," he decided.

"You aren't thinking what I think you're thinking, are you, Potter?" Blaise asked, her eyes fixed on his face.

Harry only smiled.

**)PM(**

"I can't believe we're doing this," Cedric's disembodied muttered as he and Harry crossed the ground toward the Portkey, each covered by one of the two invisibility cloaks.

"It's going to work. Trust me," Harry whispered, narrowly avoiding losing his head to a long, sharp tail as the dragon nearest them swung around, its nose angled toward their scent.

"All right, but I swear I'm going to the Kneazle's Den and getting good and hammered the moment we reach London."

"Take me with you," Harry retorted in an undertone. "Are you ready?"

"Are you?"

"Point taken. Let's do it."

Harry pulled off his invisibility cloak, threw a leg over his broom, and shot straight up in the air, leaving an invisible Cedric on the ground below, surrounded by fifty dragons.

**)PW(**

"Is it over yet?" Blaise asked through her fingers. "Just tell me when they're dead."

The entire group stood at the base of the large rock formation again, braced and ready.

Blaise heard Potter yelling and whistling in an effort to get the dragons' attention. Slowly, the massive beasts turned their attention to the skyward commotion. The ground shook as the surprised dragons hopped up and down on the spot. Blaise wondered with distant horror if Cedric was being crushed in the flurry.

"Have they – have they forgotten they can fly?" Tristan said, her grip on Dorian's bicep tightening reflexively.

"Gorgeous creatures," Draco said, shrugging and continuing to look as bored as possible for someone about to charge under a doom of dragons. "Also the dullest breed in the history of dragon breeding."

"Always knew Uncle Harry was round the bend," Dorian said, so tense that he didn't seem to notice Tristan touching him.

"Never mind Ced," Hayden murmured, biting his lip and running a hand over his hair in just the way Draco often did. His eyes scanned the ground where Cedric probably was at that moment.

Blaise dared another peek through her fingers. She wished she hadn't. Potter was diving in and out of the dragons, winding them into a hysterical frenzy. Since the daft beasts still hadn't realized they could fly, too, Potter was forced to go to them. He had already lost half his broom tail. Blaise didn't think her stomach could clench any tighter or her palms could sweat any more.

"There're too many of them for Potter to distract," Draco muttered darkly, watching the proceedings with a deeply furrowed brow. "Little Potter will never be able to get to that Portkey with only Potter to distract them." He scowled. "Bloody Potter egos – shame there's no brain behind them."

Blaise was inclined to agree.

"Den, what the hell are you doing?"

Blaise turned to see Hayden determinedly straddling a broom. His injured arm was cradled against his chest, leaving him one arm to steer with.

"You can't fly a broom with your shoulder like that!" Ginny shrieked when she, too, saw what he was about.

Tristan looked like she'd swallowed her tongue. "Hayden, no!"

"He needs help out there!" Hayden argued crossly, ignoring Tristan and looking at his mother. "Or do you _want_ to see Uncle Harry or Cedric die, not that we'd ever find Ced's body because he's wearing that stupid cloak?"

Tristan looked suddenly faint. "You aren't going out there! I am!" she said abruptly, already digging out her own broom. "They're _my_ family!"

"You what? I don't think so – " Hayden definitely looked her way then.

"Neither one of you is going out there!" Blaise cut in. "Potter's too bloody protective of you. You'll only distract him, and he'll end up killing himself looking after you – "

"Oh, bugger this," Draco growled. He marched forward before anyone could say another word, snatched Hayden's broom, and shot passed them to join Potter's suicidal dance through the air.

"What on earth is he _doing_?" Ginny clapped a hand over mouth, her other hand firmly gripping Hayden to make sure he didn't follow his father's example. A moment later, she took the hand away from her mouth to catch hold of Dorian as he tried to mount his own broom.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Blaise murmured with the brittle calm of the hopeless and an iron grip on the back of Tristan's robes. "The idiot's going off to get himself _killed_!"

**)PM(**

Harry nearly fell off his broom when he saw who'd come to help.

"Get out of here, Malfoy!" he shouted, ducking between two charging dragons, and barely missed the resulting crash. His ploy worked – the two Hebrideans fell, concussed, with a loud thud to the rock-strewn mountainside. Unfortunately, they fell within inches of the Portkey.

"And let you take all the glory, Potter?" Malfoy, following his example, hovered dangerously in mid-air, baiting the dragons in the hope that they'd eventually remember their expansive wingspan and take off so Cedric and the others could reach the Portkey.

Harry heard a deafening, exasperated roar issue from the dragons now tracking the Slytherin. Their massive heads wove back and forth like hypnotized snakes. Suddenly, one of them let out of breath of searing flame. Malfoy disappeared from view.

"Malfoy!" Harry soared higher as more of the dragons shot hot fiery death into the air around him. Harry sent up a silent prayer for his son somewhere on the ground below and was just wondering if he could get close enough to check on the Portkey when Malfoy appeared through the curtain of smoke. He was coughing but flying very purposefully upward.

"Move your arse, Potter – they're on their way!" Malfoy shouted as he shot passed, broom tail singed, with a mess of dragons who suddenly remembered they could fly on his tail.

Harry didn't need telling twice. He followed Malfoy straight up into the sky, thinking in a distant kind of way, _Oh, good. Now Ced can get the Portkey working_. He could hear the heavy beat of thick, leathery wings behind him. He felt the air heat with hot breath and ring with roars.

Fortunately, Harry chose that moment to focus on Malfoy, who hand-signaled and veered left. Harry followed, wondering with the blond was up to. Malfoy shot forward a hundred meters before signaling and diving straight toward the ground. Harry flinched, suddenly realizing with the Slytherin was up to. He didn't like it, not one bit, but it was brilliant.

If it worked, anyway ...

**)PM(**

Tristan's moan of terror cut off as the rock they were all standing on tilted with the force of impact as twenty-five dragons plowed into the dirt.

Blaise's heart was lodged permanently in her throat as she strained to see through the rain of silt and dust. The shower extended twenty meters in every direction – Blaise was relieved Draco had thought to steer them well away from Cedric and the Portkey. The Portkey had vanished into thin air several minutes ago, which Blaise assumed meant it was beneath the invisibility cloak with Cedric. Blaise, Ginny, and their collective off-spring and nephew, stood in a tense huddle, waiting for the signal to run.

Blaise spotted Potter and Draco an instant later.

"Oy! They made it! I can't believe they made it!" Dorian breathed suddenly, pointing as the two seventh years shot forward out of the dust cloud. "Bloody Wronki Feint and everything."

"Been there, seen that," Tristan said with a wild, giddy laugh, watching her father and uncle begin another climb into the air. They still had half the dragons on their tail.

"Come on, Ced, get a bleeding move on," Hayden muttered, squinting at the empty field where Blaise's son and their Portkey probably were.

Ginny squinted up into the sky. "Where'd Draco go? I don't see him!" Ginny caught Blaise's expression and went pink. "Not a word, Zabini. Not a bloody word!"

Draco and Potter appeared to be trying to same trick again, though only half the dragons following them fell for it. Blaise almost lost her footing as a smaller version of the first crash shook the ground.

A disembodied arm suddenly appeared, waving at them from twenty meters away. "Looks, Ced's ready for us!" Tristan said breathlessly. "Let's go!"

Blaise followed the others as they scrambled over the rocky ground toward Cedric and the Portkey. Blaise knew immediately that it would be close – the few dragons who hadn't taken Potter and Draco's bait noticed them coming almost at once. They snarled and came at the group with clumsy, loping gates.

"Heads up!" Dorian bellowed, throwing himself to the side to avoid the snap of jaws as the first beast neared him. The others began dodging as well. Blaise ducked under a dragon's arrowhead tail and pulled Hayden, whose arm was clearly causing him a good deal of pain, out of the way of another.

They were halfway to Cedric when a Hebridean landed right in front of Blaise. She gave Hayden a shove that threw him clear of the massive beast just as she was knocked off her feet. She slammed backward into the ground, the breath knocked from her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut, gasping uselessly for air and waiting for the end.

When she didn't feel any tearing pain and breath suddenly exploded back into her lungs, she blinked –

And saw a reflection of herself in one humongous, iridescent purple eye.

Blaise froze, barely hearing the shouts of the others nearby, and feeling the hot, bitter breath of the dragon as it exhaled, watching her.

Jaws larger than her entire body yawned wide, exposing arm-length fangs dripping with saliva. She didn't dare move and had stopped breathing again. She wondered distantly how much it would hurt to be chewed up and swallowed. Or possibly just swallowed and digested whole – the dragon's mouth was big enough for it.

She waited for the end but, again, it didn't come.

The dragon nodded its massive head, closed its deathtrap mouth, and moved away.

Blaise lay there, trying to remember how to breathe. The desperate shouts of the others helped her drag herself up. If she didn't move, they'd be dead for sure. She struggled to her feet and streaked toward Cedric, now partly visible and clutching the Portkey. She saw the others waiting around him, half hidden under the invisibility cloaks. As she drew nearer, she saw their looked of stunned disbelief. Tristan reached out and pulled her under the shelter of one of the cloaks, hanging onto her so tightly she thought she might stop breathing again.

Everyone pressed close beneath the cloaks, waiting for Potter and Draco to realize they were all ready to go. It didn't take them long – Draco, in the process of leading another group of dragons away from them, shouted something at Potter and pointed.

Potter shouted back and the two of them turned and flew straight into the group of dragons. They vanished from sight for a long moment before bursting through the back end of the dragon's formation and plummeting toward the group of the ground.

They stumbled as they landed, hitting the ground running.

Blaise reached out her hand as they approached, stretching her arm to its fullest. All of them had their hands outstretched, moving in a group toward the two boys who were being rapidly charged by a group of furious dragons.

Potter's eyes met Blaise's as their fingers touched, fumbled and held – and the world spun madly as Cedric activated the Portkey, pulling them all to safety.

**)PM(**

When the Portkey deactivated, the entire group took a look around, assuring themselves they were in the woods this time, and then collapsed to the ground. Harry noticed that even Cedric, usually so strong and unfazed, lay back in the brush, gasping for air and clutching Tristan to his side. She lay with her face pressed into his shoulder.

Nobody moved or spoke for several minutes – Harry kept a hand on Blaise's arm, just to assure himself that he was alive and so was she. Harry managed to lift his head and look at the rest of them. Ginny had one hand on Malfoy and one caressing Hayden's tear-stained face as he cradled his arm. He must have been in a hell of a lot of pain to finally lose control like that, Harry thought. Malfoy had Ginny's wrist in a white-knuckled grip and lay staring up at the tree canopy with round, unseeing eyes. His chest rose and fell in rapid explosions of breath.

Of the two of them, Harry was the only one who'd flown against a dragon before.

"Good thing our next Portkey is only a few meters away," Cedric said at last. He pointed and Harry could see a sign, pointing at trails leading off in different directions. "There's a bird's nest hidden behind the sign. That's our ticket to London."

Malfoy coughed, the sound rattling his chest, and said in a voice that was a thin rasp, "Do we have to walk anywhere in London? If so, someone will have to carry me."

Ginny laughed a little, the sound thick with tears. She pulled her hands away from Malfoy and Hayden, staring at her palms with a shocked gasp that wiped the smile from her face. "It won't be me," she murmured, sitting up and wincing. "How the hell did that happen?" She winced again. "Will someone else get the first aid kit out of my pack, please? No, Hayden, lie still," she ordered as her son, tears still pooling in his eyes, tried to sit up.

Blaise pushed herself up and slid her way to Ginny's pack. She pulled out the first aid kit and immediately got to work on Ginny's hands. It made sense, Harry thought. Ginny was the healer of the group and she was no good without her hands. She directed Blaise, telling her which potions and bandages to apply. The tense expression and tears in Ginny's eyes disappeared as Blaise worked. After a moment, Ginny's pain was under enough control for her to begin tending the others. Blaise took the opportunity to lie back down. She looked short of breath.

Cedric held up a badly scratched forearm. "I almost feel guilty I didn't get mauled or something."

"Ought to feel damned lucky. I'll be leaning on you, Ced," Dorian said with a hiss as Ginny began bandaging up a long, shallow rip on one of his calves, where a claw had caught him. "I reckon I'm going to be limping for a bit."

"Only until we get to London," Cedric reassured him. "Once we're downtown, I've got some friends who'll put us up. They live in Muggle London and have to have massive shielding around their flat, so we'll be able to use magic to heal ourselves." He grinned, waving Ginny off when she tried to see to his arm. He nodded to Tristan, a silent indicator to treat her first. "Plus," he added, with a spark of a grin, "they'll be tickled to bits that we're on the run. They'll fix us up. Aunt Gin, just mend everyone enough to travel."

Harry coughed into his sleeve. When he pulled it back, he saw blood. He glanced at Malfoy and saw the Slytherin pull his sleeve back with a thin line of red across it. He caught Harry's eyes and raised his eyebrows. "Too much dragon smoke in our lungs," he explained in a hoarse whisper, coughing again.

"Dragon smoke is abrasive when you get too much in you," Ginny explained as she rubbed some potion over Hayden's damaged shoulder. His expression relaxed and he used his good arm to wipe the tears off his face. "I don't have the right potion," Ginny said apologetically. "We'll have to hope these friends of Cedric's do." She glanced at Malfoy. "Sit up – it'll help you breathe."

Malfoy and Harry levered themselves upright. The heat flooding Harry's lungs was still there, scorching his throat and mouth when he breathed, but the coughing, which felt like knives along his exposed skin, stopped. He leaned his forearms on his knees and tried not to breathe too much.

He looked around at everyone. Tristan looked like she'd rolled over and over in gravel. Her hands were the worst, in roughly the same shape as Ginny's. Her palms and the bottoms of her fingers were bandaged and she didn't look as though she were in any immediate pain. Malfoy sat with his back against a tree, looking as though he, too, were trying hard not to breathe. Cedric, probably the least hurt, was making his way to the sign where the Portkey was hidden. His cut forearm was bandaged with a strip of cloth and he looked alert. Dorian limped along beside him, favoring his torn calf.

"Harry, Malfoy." Ginny gingerly pulled two bottles out of one of the packs with her fingertips. "Start drinking as much water as you can. It will help cushion your throat and lungs until I can get you the proper potion."

_Thank Merlin for Dobby,_ Harry thought as he took a careful swallow of the cool water. They'd used up most of their first aid supplies already, but water wasn't in short supply.

Harry's eyes, still wandering the clearing as he drank, settled on Blaise. He felt a cold shiver works its way along his spine. She was on her knees by a small pond in the clearing, staring down at her reflection.

A reflection without so much as a scratch.

"Zabini," Ginny said, approaching her cautiously. "Do you need bandages or potions or anything?"

"I'm fine," Blaise muttered without looking at her. She frowned. "I think I chipped a tooth when I fell but apart from that ..."

"No bruises or cuts or anything?" Ginny asked, frowning at her.

"I said no," Blaise snapped, glaring at the redhead. "Go doctor someone else, Weasley. I'm fine."

"Fine, are you?" Malfoy rasped, throwing her a look. "A dragon almost ate you, Blaise."

Dorian nodded. "It didn't just _not_ eat you – it had you and just walked away. Didn't touch you." He sent her an awed look. "Are you, like, a dragon whisperer?"

Harry saw Tristan roll her eyes.

"Have you ever been attacked by dragons before?" Hayden asked, pushing himself upright and staring at Blaise uneasily. "Have they ever left off killing you, by chance?"

"Look, I don't know what the hell happened!" Blaise exploded, turning away from her reflection and glowering at them all. "Stop looking at me!" She disappeared into a grove of trees near the clearing's edge.

Harry glanced around. Malfoy rolled his eyes, muttering something so soft and raspy Harry couldn't hear. Tristan stared after her mother, Cedric's gaze following hers. Everyone else shrugged and got back to collecting packs or trying at least to gain their feet. Harry hesitated before heading for the grove of trees.

"I just don't understand," he heard Ginny murmur from a ways off, almost to herself. "It's just – most of us saw it. The dragon let her walk away."

"And before that, when the dragon knocked her over," Cedric said. "She should have concussion – she hit the ground so hard! I couldn't believe that she wasn't scratched or bruised or anything."

"I believe it," Malfoy said, his eyes narrowing. "You should see her at Quidditch. She's never hurt or anything. It's eerie."

"But why didn't the dragons go after her?" Tristan murmured, staring at the grove of trees Harry was now nearing.

"She's always had these weird things about her," Malfoy said, his expression grim. "She never seemed to get hurt or sick, in all the time I've known her at school. For Merlin's sake, baby Potter, she jumped off a cliff onto a troll yesterday and all she's got is a bit of a bow-legged walk. She should have broken her legs!"

"Why did you bring that up yesterday?" Ginny demanded.

"I thought someone besides me had brains, Weasley," he sneered. "Think how your body would have broken into a thousand pieces, landing on a troll."

"We can talk about this later," Cedric cut in impatiently. He held the bird's nest in his hand. "Someone get Mum so we can get out of here."

Harry hesitated outside the grove of trees. When he heard a sniffle, he ducked through them.

**)PM(**

Blaise stared into the clear, rippling water of a small spring within the grove, telling herself that she had gotten lucky, yet again. Maybe her mum had swallowed a gallon of Felix Felicis when she was pregnant with Blaise or something. How was she to know why she never seemed to be hurt by anything for more than a half-hour? How was she supposed to know why her bones never seemed to break?

She kicked a pebble into the water, sniffling as she watched her reflection in the little spring blur and quiver.

"They're just curious," a voice rasped from behind her. "And I think we're all a little paranoid."

Blaise turned to face Potter, swallowing hard. "Everyone's always been a little afraid of me, Potter," she told him quietly, scowling. "Not even healers understand why I'm never hurt by anything. My legs hurting from the jump onto the troll ... that's the most I've hurt in my life." She didn't add that the pain was already gone.

Potter took several cautious steps toward her. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, silently daring him to pity her. "I've spent my whole life being misunderstood by people," he said, offering a little smile. "People fear what they don't understand. Don't worry – it's just part of who you are." His smiled widened. "I won't lie. I'm jealous of a super-powered immune system." He coughed, a look of terrible pain shattering the smile as he bent double, hands on his knees.

She hurried to his side, resting a helpless hand on his back. "Potter? Potter, are you okay?"

He stopped coughing a moment later and Blaise saw the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. She lifted a hand, wiping the red line from his skin while he took several deep breaths and swallowed.

"Thanks," he said, his voice coming out barely a whisper.

"Why?" Blaise began, and paused. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking her to finish the question. "Why," she began again, "do you always seem to be throwing you life away for people like me? People who don't matter." She clamped her mouth shut as he straightened.

He stared at her, his eyes round behind his ridiculous spectacles. "You matter." He mouthed the words because his voice seemed to have gone. Lifting a hand, he brushed a wisp of black hair off Blaise's cheek. "Of course you matter."

Blaise's lip trembled. "Why?" she murmured, her own voice barely breaking through her lips.

Potter shook his head, looking almost amused. The amusement faded as he bent his head slowly toward hers. Blaise's heart jumped in her chest and her cheeks went pink. She tilted her head and met his lips halfway to hers. She tasted smoke, she tasted blood. His lips brushed gently over hers again before moving to her hair, across her nose. Her hand rose and rested against his chest, feeling his unsteady heartbeat through his burnt shirt. She closed her eyes, tilting her chin and catching his lips again.

When his lips brushed passed her ear, he murmured, "You matter. To me."

**)PM(**

"Oh, for – Aunt Gin, will you please tell Mum and Dad to hurry up?" Cedric demanded. "We need to get to London before Tristan turns thirty."

His sister shot him a dirty look and Ginny hurried across the clearing to look for Harry and Blaise. When she reached the grove and peeked around one of the trees, she let out a little gasp.

They weren't snogging, though Ginny wished they had been because she felt like she'd walked in on something much more personal. Harry's lips moved gently across Blaise's face, brushing her eyelids, her cheekbones, the curve of her jaw. Blaise stood, eyes closed, a hand pressed against Harry's heart.

Ginny backed away, turned to leave them for someone else to interrupt, and walked into Draco's chest.

"While we're young, Weasley," he said irritably, his voice barely fighting its way out of his damaged throat.

"Leave them," Ginny said, her cheeks turning pink as she stepped quickly back. "They're they having a moment."

"Bloody hell," Draco rasped, stopping to cough. Ginny scooted closer to him. When he'd finished, she wiped the blood from his lips with a strip of cloth from the healer's kit and tilted his head up to receive a sip of cool water.

"Trying to distract me?" he asked when he could speak again, his voice a mere whisper.

"Trying to take care of you since you won't do it yourself," Ginny retorted, hating her cheeks for going pinker than they already were. He smirked when he saw the color and she glared at him. She was about to tell him exactly what he could do with the smirk when Blaise and Harry appeared. They moved, a respectful distance between them, to join the others.

"Take your time," Cedric said, glaring at his parents.

"Sorry," Blaise murmured. "Let's get out of here." She glanced at Harry, almost a question. He smiled and nodded.

"Oh, my god," Draco said in a voice that, mercifully, only Ginny could hear. "Potter's snogged her, hasn't he? Look at her face. Oh, Weasley, I think my internal retinas are scarred!"

"Come on, you incredible drama queen," she muttered back, leading the way over to the group. "Don't be git about it."

"Why shouldn't I?" came the whisper in her ear. "The thought of Potter's tongue down anyone's throat makes me feel violently ill."

"It's beneath you to be like this," she retorted as they neared the others. "And also, you're revolting!"

"Yeah? Well, you're…" Draco looked thoughtful,"..._ugly_."

Ginny gasped in outrage, forgetting to keep her voice down. "Ugly? _Me_? I'm not exactly Merlin's gift to men, but really!"

"Hit a nerve, did I?"

She scowled at him and was about to join the others, when Draco caught her hand. Pain sliced across her palm and up her arm. She nearly bit through her lip as he tugged her back to face him, and there were tears in her eyes when she looked up at him. Her breath left her lungs as if she'd been punched in the stomach. She couldn't make a sound.

He blinked at her, surprised for a moment, before his eyes widened in horror and he dropped her hand. She drew a shaky breath, stifling a moan, as she forced the hand above her heart, willing the throbbing pain to ebb. A wounded sob escaped her despite her best efforts to remain silent, and she bent her head in angry embarrassment, watching the grass beneath her boots blur.

"I…I didn't realize – I mean, I didn't think. I didn't mean to do that," Draco rasped_. _He sounded lost, unsure what to do to fix the problem and unsure how to cope with the fact that he cared.

She waited until the pain was bearable before she looked up at him. Setting her teeth against the pain still throbbing up her arm, she said shortly, "We should go."

"Wait," he said as she turned away. Something in his voice made her turn back to look at him. He stared at her, lost again and unsure what to do. Ginny stared at him incredulously as he balled up his sleeve and clumsily swiped at her wet cheeks with his sleeve. She blinked more tears out of her eyes, which he caught.

"Don't want everyone thinking I hurt you on purpose," he mumbled, his scratchy voice cutting in and out at intervals.

"I do not understand you," she murmured, shaking her head.

"Yeah, well," he grumbled, tucking his hands away in his pockets. "Join the club."

**)PM(**

"A bird's nest seems like a weird Portkey to me," Dorian said as the group circled up, leaning on each other in various states of disrepair.

"This whole place is a nature conservation project," Cedric said. "No one is supposed to touch anything, especially not birds' nests. Makes it a perfect Portkey." He gave his parents, Draco, and Ginny grouchy looks. "Now if we're quite through with the premarital bonding, can we please go find some shelter from the Unspeakables and homicidal lunatic on our tails?"

"Some of those Unspeakables probably are homicidal lunatics," Harry murmured, shivering.

"Point made, please can we go?" Tristan begged.

"Yeah, someone needs to get Draco some shampoo," Blaise said, smirking at him. "His hair's all staticky now."

Draco gave a silent yelp of horror and immediately reached for his head.

"Vanity, thy name is Malfoy," Ginny misquoted wearily. "What is it with you and your hair, anyway?"

"Hey," he rasped, glaring at her. "Hair is one of the first things people see when they look at you. You never get a second chance to make a first impression."

She rolled her eyes. "Or in your case, a third, a fourth, and a fifth…"

Draco scowled at her. The others began joining hands around the nest (too small to fit all their hands). Draco reached for her hand again, thought better of it, and wrapped his long fingers around her upper arm. She closed her eyes as she felt the familiar, nauseating jerk behind her navel. Seconds later, her feet landed firmly on smooth cobblestone. She stood blinking at an alleyway that opened onto a long, broad, bustling street beyond.

"Welcome to London," Cedric said, setting the Portkey carefully down behind a large dumpster and leading them into the bustling street beyond.

"If anyone sees my aunt or uncle, let me know," Harry murmured from behind her. "I can't think of a better present for them than to see me and my weird friends hanging around in broad daylight."

**)PM(**

**TBC**


	9. In Which They Never Quite Relax

**A/N**: Another chapter seriously overhauled that feels, flows, and looks a hundred thousand times stronger than it did.

Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good …(of course it's not ours!)

**)PvsM(**

"You sure he lives here?" Dorian stared up at the crumbling, ramshackled apartment building in front of them, an eyebrow disappearing into his hair. Harry didn't blame him – the whole thing looked like it might collapse and crush them all if they so much as touched the buzzer.

"Trust me," Cedric said, grinning a little. "Ken knows that this is the last place in the world his mum or anyone else would ever look for him. He's right in the middle of London's red light district. Anyway, Soho's his style. Theaters, bookstores, and lovely ladies at his beck and call."

"Sounds like a troublemaker," Harry noted.

"That's one way to put it," Tristan muttered. "Kendal Longbottom is still a legend at Hogwarts."

"Longbottom?" Ginny repeated.

"Neville Longbottom's son, yeah," Cedric said. "When we were in school, we realized my mum and his dad had disappeared about the same time. We've worked together, pooling our resources, since Hogwarts. Now we talk whenever we can and look for our parents in our own ways."

Cedric climbed the crumbling steps to the door, pressing the buzzer. A moment's pause, then a click and a sleep-rough voice.

"This had better be good."

"Interrupting a good shag, am I?" Cedric smirked.

"Oy – that you, Ced?" The sleepy voice perked up.

"No, it's your mum. I brought you a pudding."

"Fuck off. I'll buzz you in."

"Take your time," Cedric said. "Just be sure you're clothed when we get up there. There are ladies present."

"Little Tristy, perhaps?" The voice was muffled for a moment. It sounded as though whoever it was pulling a shirt over his head.

"Yes, so see you're dressed, mate."

There was a clink. They only had to wait another moment before the sound of multiple latches, locks, and chains being disengaged met their ears. Then the door clicked open.

"Come on." Cedric led them into a dark, dingy corridor and up a few flights of rickety stairs. Only Dorian, his leg still sore, had trouble with the stairs. He leaned on Tristan and the two were the last to the top of the third flight, which spit them into an even dingier hallway with a single bare bulb set into the ceiling.

"Charming place," Blaise murmured, staring apprehensively around.

"Don't be fooled," Cedric said. "His flat is much cleaner than this. At least it was before all his insane mates moved in during uni. Can't promise anything now." He went to the door at the end of the hall and knocked loudly.

A moment later, a young man poked his head out. His hair would have been dull brown, had not it been highlighted blue. He wore a button-down white shirt and jeans, his feet bare against a carpet that looked clean.

"It _is_ you," Kendal Longbottom said, beaming as he pulled Cedric into a backslapping hug. "What the hell brings you to London, mate? Thought you wouldn't be back until May."

"We're on the run," Cedric said simply, gesturing at the small group crowded in the corridor behind him.

"Really?" Kendal's eyes swept over them, coming to rest on Tristan, Hayden, and Dorian. He chuckled.

"Been a long time, kids," he said. He studied them, his eyes stopping on Tristan. The Slytherin Seeker glared at him, hands on her hips. "Well, well," Kendal said, his lip curling up at one corner. "Tristan Potter. What have they been feeding you, girl?"

"I assume you're referring to a substantial different in height and not implying that I'm fat," Tristan snapped, crossing her arms.

"Come here, you silly girl. Don't be cross with me." Kendal tugged her into a hug, which she returned. "No, but really, the last time I saw you was – when was that?"

"You came to stay with Ced over the holidays," Tristan said with a crooked smile. "I was nine."

"And flat-chested," Kendal said, tweaking her nose. Tristan batted his hand away and Cedric made an interesting noise in his throat.

"Are you through?" Hayden cut in crossly. Kendal smirked at him.

"Hayden Malfoy," Kendal said, grinning and keeping an arm around Tristan, who let him. "All grown up as well. And with a big fat crush on – " Tristan turned red and slugged him in the stomach. He coughed, bending over with his hands on his knees.

"Playing Beater, are you?" Kendal wheezed.

"Seeker, actually," Tristan said, examining her fingernails. "I'm very delicate." Her brother and Harry snorted with laughter.

"Mind letting us in?" Malfoy rasped irritably from the back of the group. "While I'm still too young to be a father?"

"To be _his_ father, anyway," Ginny mumbled, glancing at Hayden.

Kendal's full attention turned to the four other young people on the landing. His eyes widened, narrowed. He tilted his head to one side.

"Ced – they look – I mean, there's something – look, do I _know_ any of you?"

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose." Ginny sighed.

"I'll explain everything inside, Ken." Cedric's voice was a bit stern as he pulled Tristan away. "But like I said, we're on the run and all that . . . "

"Right." Kendal's eyes moved reluctantly from their scrutiny of Harry, who was trying to flatten his hair over his scar. "Come on in."

He led them into a large sitting room with a fire. Eight pairs of exhausted eyes turned beadily on the large sofas and hearth rug.

"You don't need to worry about being found here," Kendal promised, directing them to leave their cloaks and shoes in a room just off the entry. "We're well warded against anything, even Unspeakables."

"Good thing, that, as we're running from _four_," Tristan mumbled, tossing her boots into the room and shrugging off her rucksack.

"And a psychotic murderer," Dorian added helpfully.

"There's another kind?" Blaise muttered.

"Merlin's toenails! What have you lot done?" Kendal stared at them all. "I've only ever managed an Auror, but four Unspeakables!" He glared at Cedric. "Why didn't you tell me? I could be on the run with you."

"I'll give you the short version," Cedric said testily, tossing his cloak on top of Tristan's jacket and pushing passed Kendal into the sitting room. "These four – " he waved a hand at Harry, Blaise, Malfoy, and Ginny – "are Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, and," he paused when his eyes reached his mum, "Blaise Zabini. They've traveled twenty-three years into their future. They came to warn us about a mad git we're calling Red Robes and we need Albus Dumbledore to help us sort the whole mess out. We're headed to Avalon, where he's supposed to be."

"You mean, you're heading to Glastonbury." Kendal led the others into the sitting room, grinning as they made a mad rush at the sofas. Blaise and Dorian sulkily sat down on the hearth rug. "Muggles like to think it's the site of Avalon, but you know that's a load. Avalon is a myth, even in the magical world."

"I also know that no one's ever seriously tried to find the entrance to Avalon through Glastonbury," Cedric countered. "I've checked, Ken. I know what I'm talking about."

"If there _is_ a real Avalon," Kendal said slowly. "And no one's found it for millennia, what makes you think you're going to find it now?"

"Because we reckon Dumbledore found it," Cedric said. "If anyone can find a hidden island, it's Dumbledore. And if he's there, the entrance is there and we can find it." He gave his friend a superior look. "I've been on the road for ages. I'm a damned good tracker."

"No arguments there, old friend." Kendal held up his hands in surrender. "Well, I'm happy to put you up as long as you need. You look like you could do with a little medicine and a shower."

"Exactly!" Blaise said, leaning back in front of the fire and closing her eyes.

"Food?" Dorian said hopefully.

"You haven't changed a bit, Ian," Kendal commented. "You lot are in luck," he added, heading for a door off the sitting room. "I happen to have a healer living with me at the moment." He rapped a fist against the door. "Eric!"

"What?" Another young man, shirtless and wearing baggy plaid trousers, glared out the door at him. Giggling could be heard coming from the room.

"Who's that, then?" Kendal asked, peering around his friend.

"Alice," Eric said. He winced as a pillow hit him in the head and a woman's voice said, "Maggie, you git!"

"Hi, Maggie!" Kendal said cheerfully. "When you're through with Eric, you can come by my room."

Maggie said something rude and Eric grinned.

"Look, can you spare a minute, mate?" Kendal asked, returning his attention to Eric. "Ced's here with a whole crowd of injured people and they could probably do with a bit more than bandages."

Eric looked indignant and his dark, hooded eyes looked sleepy. "Tell Ced to fuck off for an hour. I'm busy."

"Busy with what – fucking off?" Tristan spoke up, stalking the length of the room and glaring at Eric. "Look," she said, poking a bandaged finger into his chest, "we just escaped a dragon breeding ground in Scotland. Dad and Uncle Draco are going to lose a lung each, my hands have practically been burnt off, and Hayden's shoulder might actually be broken." She pushed passed Eric into his room, eliciting a shriek from the woman in the bed (and ignoring it). She was gone a moment. When she reappeared, she thrust a healer's satchel into Eric's bare chest and said, "You're a healer. Start now."

Eric stared at her retreating back in amazement. He looked much wider awake than he had a moment ago.

"Tristan Potter," he said, throwing Cedric a look of extreme surprise. "Good lord, girl, what have they been feeding you?"

Dorian, to his credit, tried to hide a snigger behind his large hand, but Hayden led out a sharp bark of laughter and Malfoy chuckled. Tristan made an interesting noise in her throat (a noise Blaise made on occasion, Harry realized) and threw herself into her brother's lap.

"What is it withyour sodding friends?" she growled, curling up against his chest and having a little sulk.

"They're first-class prats," Cedric said, glaring at the pair of them. They both smirked at him.

"Don't worry, Tristy," Kendal drawled. "That's our way of telling you you're hot."

"Watch it!" Cedric snapped as Tristan gave them the finger and they both hooted with laughter. "Well, Eric?"

"Oh, all right," Eric grumbled. "What're we dealing with exactly? Direct exposure to dragon flame? Smoke inhalation? Scratches? Burns?"

"Yes," they all said.

"Hmm," Eric muttered. He turned and said something to the girl in his room. A white tee-shirt hit him in the face and he blew her a kiss. Pulling on the shirt, he crossed the room and stood staring at them all.

"Hayden first," Ginny said. "I had to relocate his shoulder and it's been hurting him horribly ever since."

"_Mum_," Hayden said, looking embarrassed and also in terrible pain.

"_Mum_?" Eric repeated, glancing at Kendal and Cedric.

"Don't ask," Cedric said, rubbing a hand over his face. Tristan, still in his lap, patted his head with a heavily bandaged hand. He didn't look noticeably soothed.

"Food?" Dorian asked again from the hearth rug.

"Of course, you lot must be starving!" Kendal crossed the room in three strides and disappeared through another dark doorway. As Eric continued to make his rounds, the group began to properly relax for the first time. For now, they were safe. Harry felt suddenly drained. Malfoy, he noticed, must have been tired, too. He hadn't said a word in fully ten minutes, either to complain or heartlessly mock someone. Blaise, lying on the hearth rug beside Dorian, was already asleep, her breath whistling through her hair. The lines of worry and confusion around her eyes were gone, Harry was pleased to see. Ginny, who had managed to squeeze onto the sofa beside Malfoy and Hayden, hovered over the latter as Eric examined his arm. Malfoy seemed almost as interested as Ginny, though he was trying not to show he was. Cedric had Tristan in his lap and was rocking them both gently and humming a soft tune.

"I don't think I'll ever move again," Dorian murmured from the rug, stretching his uninjured leg and closing his eyes. "Except to eat," he added hastily, in case anyone had any doubt at all.

"Me, neither," Tristan exhaled noisily. Hayden's gaze turned toward her, almost as if he couldn't help it. Tristan noticed, stood up, and went to lie next to Dorian on the rug. Dorian grinned. Tristan curled up facing him and said, "Touch me and you're dead, Weasley."

"I would never dream of violating your person!" Dorian protested, a hand snaking toward her anyway. She amused herself with batting away his advances for a few minutes until suddenly his head lulled to the side and he let out a loud snore. Tristan giggled, rolling onto her back. A moment later, she offered her hands to Eric for inspection.

"Looks painful," Eric murmured, examining her scratched and bleeding palms.

"No worse than our last match against Gryffindor," Tristan said, smirking at Hayden around Eric's leg and trying not to wince when he prodded her hand with his wand.

"Yeah, it was really amazing," Hayden drawled. "She slid on her face halfway across the pitch."

"_And_ I caught the Snitch," Tristan taunted.

"Course you did," Eric said. She glowered at him when he added, "Because the other Seeker was salivating over you in a Quidditch kit."

"Oy!" Cedric and Hayden bellowed at the same time.

Tristan's glower because a grin. "Maybe," she said, throwing Hayden a hooded look. "I would have caught the Snitch anyway."

Eric gave a whistle. "You've got nerve, girl."

"She has to, being in Slytherin," Malfoy muttered hoarsely, surprising the room at large.

Tristan looked pleased and Hayden looked disgusted. Eric went off to prepare some potions, adding on his way out, "Because you lot are such a ruddy mess, it's going to take all the supplies I have here to heal you."

"You know we'll pay you for them," Cedric said uncomfortably.

"Shut up," was all Eric said.

"Maybe we should stick around a couple nights here, Cedric." Ginny yawned, leaning her head against Malfoy's arm and closing her eyes. He didn't object.

"Brilliant," Harry agreed in a rasping whisper, stretching his legs out and staring at Blaise and Tristan, both curled on the hearth rug at his feet. Tristan had dropped off now, too, her hair mingling with Blaise's against the bright light of the fire. Tristan had rolled over in her sleep, settling beside Blaise, as though called to be closer to her. Dorian's eyes were still open, though only just. His hand snaked out toward Tristan again, but he caught Harry's eye and yanked it back with a little grin.

"Ken would let us stick around forever," Cedric said slowly, his eyes on Dorian as well. "Harboring fugitives is his idea of Christmas come early. But you lot know we've got to get to Glastonbury ahead of the Unspeakables and Red Robes."

The door of Eric's room opened again and the young healer emerged, floating a large tray spread with potions, bandages, and tweezers beside him.

"Okay," he said. "Hayden, let's set your shoulder before you damage the socket any worse, yeah?"

Hayden paled and Ginny sat up, wide awake. "It's okay," she said, squeezing his good hand. "It will only hurt for a moment."

"And there's a muscle relaxant for after," Eric promised.

"It's okay, Mum," Hayden said, gritting his teeth. He slanted a look at Malfoy, clearly not wanting seem weak in front of his father.

"Right, then." Eric crossed to the tall blonde and knelt before him. "This will be easier if you stand up."

A moment later, a crack and an involuntary scream woke everyone up. Ginny stood on Hayden's uninjured side, rubbing his back. He was ashen, with sweat glistening on his upper lip. Tristan sat bolt upright on the hearth rug. "What the hell happened?"

"Just resetting Hayden's arm," Ginny told her. "Go back to sleep."

Tristan lay slowly back down, but she lay facing her godbrother, biting her lip as her eyes tracked his expression.

"Drink this," Eric ordered. Ginny took the potion from him and held it to Hayden's lips. He swallowed, winced, and then let out a sigh that was almost a groan. "Better?" Eric asked.

"So better," Hayden said, grinning blearily. "We're all very fine now, thank you." He even grinned at Tristan, his smile sloppy. She blushed and glared back.

"What was in that potion?" Ginny asked as Hayden's head sank onto her shoulder and she eased them both back onto the sofa.

"Drugs," Eric said, winking at her as he settled at her feet to look at her hands. "Once his system absorbs them, they'll work like a standard painkiller and he'll stop dribbling on your shirt."

Tristan snickered.

A moment later, Kendal was back with armfuls of blankets. Another man with an armful of fluffy pillows followed.

"Quite a party you've got here, Ced," the man said, nudging Cedric with his hip in passing. "How'd you know my birthday's tomorrow?"

"I'd forgotten," Cedric said, grinning and poking the man in the back. "This isn't exactly a social call, Alex. We're on the run."

"Lookin' pretty social to me," Alex shot back. Harry saw his eyes travel over Ginny and Hayden, the girls asleep on the rug with Dorian between them (how he'd slithered there without Harry or Cedric noticing was anyone's guess).

"Sod off – Ian's practically my cousin," Tristan retorted from the floor without opening her dark eyes.

"Why, it's little Tristy," Alex cooed, clapping a hand over his heart. "Lounging about like a sex goddess on my hearth rug. God, you've grown up. What've they been – "

"Don't say it!" Tristan ordered, her eyes snapping open as she twisted to glare up at him.

"Fine." He winked at her and scurried out of the room when Cedric snarled at him. Eric chuckled and went back to Dorian's leg, prodding the torn flesh gently with his wand. Dorian continued to snore, taking no notice of the healer.

Kendal, meanwhile, was spreading the blankets and pillows out on the floor and trying to keep a straight face. "Go on, Ced, you never should have brought Tristy up here," he said, when Cedric gave him a dirty look. "She's too bloody gorgeous now."

"Spare us, do," Hayden intoned, still leaning on his mum, and apparently recovered from his drugged state.

"You're the worst of the lot, mate," Kendal said. "You're not fooling anyone, you know."

Hayden made a rude gesture and Ginny slapped his hand. He looked like a scolded puppy, Harry thought with a grin. A lot like Malfoy sometimes did when things just weren't going his way.

"I wouldn't have brought her up here if someone wasn't trying to kill her!" Cedric snapped.

"What?" Eric demanded. Kendal shook his head, laughter fading into grim silence.

"Ced, don't." Tristan sat up, scooting cautiously around Dorian and Eric, and leaning back against her brother's long legs. "I'll be all right." She smiled at Harry, who found he was growing very attached to the expression that lit up her green eyes. "You're not the only one looking after me anymore, Ced."

Cedric threw Harry an unreadable look and Blaise, who was still asleep on the floor, a warmer one.

The process of cleaning everyone up was a long one. No one was allowed to shower or, in fact, leave the room until Eric had given them a thorough looking over. He didn't comment on Blaise's total lack of physical damage, except to say that she'd indeed chipped a tooth. All Blaise said was, "What, really? Definitely worth waking me up for," before she rolled over and went back to sleep.

Eventually, they were bandaged and potioned to Eric's scrupulous satisfaction. Then Kendal allowed them to leave in groups of two to use the two washrooms the flat afforded for showers. He had Alex, who seemed to be the flat's resident housewife, perform cleaning charms on their clothing while they showered.

**)PvsM(**

"Mmm," Ginny hummed when she emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of scented steam. She sat down on the hearth rug with her back to the fireplace and shook her hair out, hoping the thick curls would dry before she went to bed. Reaching out, she snatched a dinner roll from the low table by the sofa, where Alex had spread a veritable feast of finger food during Ginny's turn in the bathroom.

She took a big bite of roll, ignoring the rain of crumbs down her front. Though they had eaten prior to the dragon attack, she found she was suddenly starving. She tucked into a second roll before she'd finished the first. At least she wasn't as bad as her nephew, who had three in one fist and was dipping them in a jar of marmalade. Tristan's nose wrinkled and she prodded him in the stomach.

Ginny opened her mouth to tell her nephew to be a gentleman (since she was apparently born to be a middle-aged mum, she thought she might as well start immediately and enjoy it a bit) when one of the bathroom doors opened and Draco stepped out.

Draco's pale hair hung in platinum waves around his face and neck. He'd borrowed one of Kendal's button-down shirts, since his jumper and shirt had been destroyed by the dragons. He'd only half-buttoned the shirt and the thin material clung to the damp skin of his stomach.

Ginny turned quickly away and closed her eyes, leaning forward to hug her knees.

So it was starting.

She'd known, since she'd first discovered Hayden was her son and Draco's, that someday she'd have to see something in him that called to her. She realized as she pressed her closed eyes against her knees that she was starting to see it now. Nothing monumental, just the appeal of his shower-fresh body in jeans and a blue oxford. She knew it would probably get worse from here. She knew her own mind.

Physical attraction first, emotional attraction second, love third.

"Sitting in the coals, Weasel?" The drawl was stronger than usual. "Haven't you just bathed yourself?"

"Can't you tell the difference, Malfoy?" she retorted, turning her face away from him as he settle beside her on the hearth. When he stayed beside her, she snapped, "What do you want?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," came the surprising answer in a discontented tone.

"I don't feel like guessing games." She stared into the blazing fire, her long hair sliding across her shoulders and curtaining her face. "Why can't you just be nice to me?" she demanded after a moment. "Why is it that you're always looking for a reason to hurt me? Or when you're not, you're trying to get me to shag you?"

"Don't flatter yourself," he growled. The potion Eric had given him had turned his voice into the soft hum of healthy lungs and throat.

"I'm not!" Ginny insisted, finally turning to look at him. His shirt was still unbuttoned and he was smirking at her through a fall of blond hair. "You keep insinuating things and cornering me and insulting me. If you didn't give a damn about me, you'd never go to this much bother. Make up your mind because I'm bloody well tired of the whiplash!"

She got up and stomped over to the sofa, throwing herself in a seat by Harry and crossing her arms.

"Hi, Gin." Harry smiled in a faintly amused way.

"Hi." She gave him a passable smile. "Feels nice not to be covered in mud and twigs, doesn't it?"

"Wonderful. Also nice to breathe without feeling like my lungs are being slashed by knives." Harry sighed.

"I know what you mean, sort of," Ginny said, glancing down at her soft hands. "Eric did a really good job on me and Tristan. It's like our hands were never hurt. I wonder where he works. Talent like his shouldn't be wasted."

"Speaking of talent ..." Harry glanced sideways at her. "You seem to have a knack for hacking Malfoy right off. What did you say to him before coming over here?"

Ginny glanced down at the blonde, who was still seated with his back to the fire. Grey eyes locked with brown for a long, intense moment. Ginny bit her lip and looked away.

"I don't know what he's playing at, actually," she said loudly enough for him to hear. He looked unimpressed. Only his tense hands, flexing and relaxing against the hearth rug, told her he cared at all.

"I do." Harry gave her a look Ginny recognized. She did have six older brothers. She always forgot about Harry, who might as well have been the seventh.

"How do you know?" she asked, nudging him. "You're nothing like Dr – like Malfoy. You don't throw your ego around, acting like girls think you're Merlin. You don't manipulate people. How can you possibly understand what Malfoy's playing at?"

"Look, Gin," he said. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm a bloke and I'm not blind."

He smiled at her, nudging back. "You're very attractive. Not just how you look but how you act. You're incredibly appealing and you'd have to be one of your brothers, your dad, or gay not to see it."

Ginny smiled, blushing a little. "Thanks."

"Just an observation," Harry said. "And I don't happen to think of you like that," he added hastily, glancing involuntarily toward the bathroom door behind which Blaise was showering.

"I know!" Ginny said quickly.

"Anyway," Harry went on, relaxing a little. "Malfoy's not blind, either. He knows a good thing when he sees it and he always wants the best. He's spent enough time with you by now to – well, to realize that he wants you and to realize he can't just take you like he does almost everything he wants." He smirked at the blond, who had turned his back on them to face the fire. "It's driving him mad that you don't want him. Or at least," Harry added, eyeing her closely, "that you don't seem to. You know you're going to wind up together in the future and here you are, choosing your own destiny and leaving him wondering what the hell he's supposed to do now."

"I'm a thing to him?" Ginny said in a small voice.

"I think he'd like you to be," Harry said honestly. "It's so much easier to cope with objects than people. That might be part of his problem. Maybe he's realizing he wants the girl, not the trophy wife."

Ginny thought it all sounded too good to be true. "Why would he treat me this badly and throw all these weird signals at me if he wanted me?" she wondered. "All it ever does is piss me off."

"Obviously," Harry said, stifling a chuckle under his hand. He glanced up as Blaise emerged from the bathroom. She glanced back and forth between Ginny and Harry, her face tightening. Harry gave her an exasperated look and Ginny pointed at him behind his back and rolled her eyes expressively at Blaise. The Slytherin paused, saw the look, and her face relaxed into a hesitant smile. She circle the couch and went to sit by Draco.

"Anyway, Gin," Harry went on in a low voice. "I reckon it's going to take time. He's going to have to stop playing around and start making a real effort. When he does that he's going to have to take a risk that you'll still say no and that," Harry said with finality, "is a bloody terrifying risk."

"You think he's capable of taking it?" Ginny asked.

"Dunno," Harry admitted. "I think he's getting attached to Hayden. And I've seen the way he looks at you."

Ginny blushed, ducking her head.

"Nice shade of maroon, Weasley," he murmured. She swatted his leg.

"Have a nice snog with Zabini earlier?" Ginny threw back. She grinned a moment later. "Nice shade of puce, Potter."

"Oh-ho, aren't you a laugh?" he grumbled, toying with the frayed cuff of his jumper. He slanted a look at her out of the corner of his eye. "What?"

She shook her head and smiled. Dropping her voice and glancing at the Slytherins by the fire, she murmured, "What's going on with you and Zabini? Do you fancy her?"

"Well," Harry said slowly. "She's a fantastic snog."

Ginny slammed him over the head with a throw cushion. "Harry Potter, you'd better be joking!"

"Sorry, sorry, I am!" He held up his hands to block the cushion. "Get off, Weasley, it was a joke!"

Ginny gave him a shrewd look and settled the pillow beside her on the sofa. She caught Draco and Blaise turning back to the fire, their expressions unreadable. She wondered what they both thought of the exchange. Ginny supposed you had to have a proper family to understand the difference between flirting and teaching your adoptive brother a lesson about being a chauvinist pig.

"Out with it," Ginny ordered, cross her arms.

"Well," Harry started again, his voice still low. "She _is_ a great snog, but there's more. I can't explain – I don't know what it is, but I'm really attracted to her – I think – I dunno," he finished, looking lost and out of his element. "It wasn't until the troll thing – watching her jump onto the trolls back to save her – to save _our_ – daughter. I've never seen anything like that and it – it reminded me of what my mum did for me." He swallowed.

Ginny patted his arm. "Makes sense," she said. "And Zabini's – well, she's not who I thought she was."

"Is anyone, really?" Harry mused.

"Oh, that's deep," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know if it's because I know we're supposed to have children together and that I'm supposed to love her someday," Harry said in a rushed murmur, ignoring her smart-arsed remark. "I don't know if it's because fate's shoving me at her or her at me. But I do know that I like her. And I like our children. A lot." He looked down at his sleeves again. "I never had a proper family and if things play out, she's going to give me one of my own." He looked at Tristan and Cedric. They were stuffed into a large armchair, Cedric's long arms cradling his sleeping sister against his broad chest. He had tucked a blanket around her and ran one hand absently over her long hair as he held a book he was reading with the other.

"They're incredible," Ginny said, a smile tugging at her lip. "And I think, despite what we've seen, you'll make a lovely father to them someday."

Harry tipped his head briefly against hers. "Thanks," Harry said simply. He glanced down at the hearth rug, where Blaise was sitting with her back to the fire. He caught her eye and she looked quickly away.

"Oh, go on," Ginny said, nudging him. "Get yourselves sorted out and get with the baby making."

"Ginny!" Harry said in loud, shocked tones.

Ginny giggled and kicked a foot at him. He skipped out of the way and went to sit on Blaise's other side. Draco sneered and pushed himself to his feet. When he sat down beside an unsurprised Ginny, he excused himself by saying he didn't want to get caught up in a "touching scene."

Ginny shook her head at him, mind clearer after her talk with Harry, and threw Draco into a spaz by asking what he thought of Hayden's ex-girlfriend, Moreen Abbot-Finch-Fletchley.

**)PvsM(**

His dreams were strange and disjointed and his awakening was exactly the same. Draco's eyes snapped open in the dark, though his awareness took a moment to catch up. Then he had to remember how to work his limbs. This bodily coordination accomplished, he glanced around the dark, still room. What had woken him?

He found the answer a moment later. Blaise sat in the window seat, a blanket around her shoulders. She stared out in the dark streets of London, humming softly to herself as she traced a pattern against the glass with her fingers.

Draco watched her for a moment. He had known, back at Hogwarts, that she didn't sleep much. She never looked tired, especially. Once he'd asked her and she'd shrugged and said, "I guess I don't need to."

Her song became a mixture of humming and words. It wasn't a song Draco recognized, though he remembered finding her alone in the Slytherin common room one night, humming the same nameless tune and staring out an enchanted window.

"What the hell are you singing for?" he hissed across the room. He hadn't surprised her – she turned an unconcerned look at him. "Mind shutting up so us mere mortals can sleep?"

"I would, actually," she said, and continued her song. With no sign of it ending in sight, Draco snorted and got to his feet. He crossed to the window and leaned against it, glaring out at Muggle London. He shivered, chilled by the cool air away from the hearth.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that if you keep making that face, it'll stick that way?" Blaise asked after a moment's silence.

"What difference would it make?" he retorted, running a hand over his hair. "I look good no matter what face I'm making."

"I just thought Weasley might appreciate something a bit more sincere," Blaise said innocently. "She doesn't seem the type to go in for bad boys."

"Aside from the fact that I could care less what that carrot-topped runt thinks of my face, I _don't_ smile," he said. "Sincerity is extremely overrated."

"Not by everyone." The words were so quiet, he hardly caught them.

"Honestly, Blaise?" he said, his lip curling. "You really think this little fairy tale is going to come true?"

"How's it a fairytale for me?" she wanted to know. "Far as I can tell, the only one it ends well for is you." She pressed her lips together, a thin white line against her pale face. "And Weasley."

"That's never going to happen."

"How's your son going to exist, then?"

"He's not – " Draco began, then paused. He glanced involuntarily at the blond boy, a little replica of Draco himself, who lay curled on the rug near his mother. Draco couldn't see his face in the dark of the room but he could hear his gentle, even breathing.

"He's not what? Important?" Blaise asked softly. She shook her head at him. "Spare me. I know what it's like."

"You know what _what's_ like?" he demanded, his voice thin and soft in the dark. "This isn't your life, Blaise. It's some illusion, some future we don't know anything about that has nothing to do with us."

"It has everything to do with us!" Blaise whispered fiercely. "You saw yourself and Weasley, together and happy. I've seen – " She broke off, staring down at her hands, which trembled in her lap.

"What?" Draco asked, sitting down across from her on the window seat. He didn't want to have this conversation but something inside him that he didn't recognize held him in his seat.

"Look what I've done," Blaise murmured, gesturing carelessly in the direction of the sleeping group on the floor. "My husband – the older one – is a very dangerous man. I don't know how Tristan's grown up anything less than a monster. Must spend a lot of time with Dorian and Hayden's families. My son is practically estranged from his father and spends the best part of his life roaming around looking for me." She forced a whisper of a laugh that sounded hurt and strained. "And I've apparently lost my mind and run off with Neville Longbottom."

"And that's my point!" Draco said, suddenly remembering why he still refused to believe all this rubbish. "You running off with Fatbottom? Potter going insane with grief and becoming a monster? I hate the bastard, but I don't want him going mad either." He leaned forward, staring into her unsettling purple eyes. "Blaise, this doesn't have to be real. These kids, this future. It doesn't have to exist. None of it. It's our choice, it's not written in stone because we've seen it. Now we know, can't we change it? I don't want to marry Ginny bleeding Weasley and I assume your interest in Potter is some weird throwback to that fling you had with Teddy Nott a few years ago. It's hormones. Who gives a damn about any of it?"

Blaise bit her lip. "I'm not sure I want it to change."

Something inside Draco shied away, hiding behind the idea that Blaise had probably been driven round the proverbial bend by this whole nightmare. Maybe some sort of vertigo psychosis from jumping off cliffs. Maybe post-traumatic stress from staring down the gullet of a dragon not six hours ago.

"They're not _real_," he gritted through his teeth. "They're not wanted."

Blaise focused on him. "Who?"

"Those damned kids," he hissed through his teeth. "Get a grip, Zabini, they're not important! They won't even exist if we sort this time line out properly. If they don't exist, they can't die! Problem solved."

"You – you don't want us?"

They both turned, startled. Tristan Potter stood just inside the little square of light coming through the window. Without her ridiculous specs, she looked younger, more vulnerable. Much less the Slytherin ice queen she thought she had to be.

"This future is a mistake," Draco told her flatly, his voice a whisper. "Your ruddy family is a perfect example of why none of this should ever happen."

"That's enough, Draco!" Blaise's voice was razor sharp, though low enough not to wake anyone. She glared at him. "Whether or not this future is – whether we like it or not, we're here and this is real."

She glanced quickly at her daughter. Tristan's large eyes were over-bright, and she bit her lip.

"I don't understand," she said slowly, swallowing. "You came here to save us."

"Potter came here to save you," Draco muttered. "You can thank him."

"I said that's enough!" Blaise repeated, eyes boring into Draco's. "Stop hurting people to make yourself feel better."

"That's rich," Draco said, but he was too shaken to stay there arguing with her. He turned and threw himself down into his bedroll. He pulled the blankets up around his ears and tried to block out the whole nightmare.

"Draco?"

The small, sleep-fogged voice startled him. He rolled onto his stomach and met Ginny's eyes through the gloom.

"It's okay," she said. He realized she was only half-awake, her eyelids heavy and her speech sluggish. "It's okay, don't be afraid."

"I'm not ..." He began and paused.

"Shh," she whispered, reaching out a hand and running it over his hair. "It's okay. Sleep now."

He didn't mean to relax into his pillow as her long fingers brushed hair off his forehead, ran the length of his cheekbones. He didn't mean to close his eyes and smell the scent of fresh baked bread and chocolate and toothpaste that lingered on her fingertips. He didn't mean ...

**)PvsM(**

Tristan took a deep breath and didn't look at her mother. She was _not_ going to cry. Tears were fine, but her voice wouldnot break and her face would remain calm. She was an ice queen – no one could see her weakness.

"I know he's supposed to be your godfather," Blaise said after a long, uncomfortable silence. "But give him a few decades to sort himself out, yeah?"

"Is it true?" Tristan forced herself to ask, holding her voice steady like she might hold a bucking broomstick in a windstorm. "You still don't want us? This future? I mean, I knew you were all terrified when you first turned up, but I thought maybe ..." She had to stop as her voice broke.

"I don't – " Blaise began, then paused. "You shouldn't listen to Draco when he's upset," she said at last. "He shouldn't have been talking like that."

"Is it true?" Tristan repeated slowly. "Will you give up this future when you manage to get home? Will you avoid it, not marry my dad or have Cedric and me?"

Blaise was silent for so long, Tristan wondered if she would ever answer. "I don't know, Tristan," she said at last. "I'm a seventeen year old schoolgirl. I haven't even sorted out where I'm going to uni next year. I don't know if I'd survive the war against You-Know-Who or if I'll ever get to play professional Quidditch." She wasn't good at apologies or explanations, Tristan was sure. But she was trying, which was more than Tristan's real mum had ever done.

"I think I get it," she said at last, and felt a little better in spite of herself.

"You think?" Blaise glanced up at her with an unreadable expression.

"Well." Tristan floundered for words. Now that she and Blaise seemed on more friendly terms, Tristan suddenly felt the need to keep it that way. "Seeing your own future is like being told you don't have a choice. You're stuck, this is how things are, and you don't control your own destiny." Tristan shrugged. "If it were me, I'd be fighting it for all I was worth. My dad always taught me I got to decide my own fate."

"Yeah – yeah, that's it exactly." Blaise looked very unsure. Tristan was a little taken aback. Whether or not she liked Blaise, she sort of thought of Blaise as a grown-up, despite the fact they were nearly the same age now. This girl would be Tristan's mum – seeing her unsettled and without a clue what to do made Tristan both sympathetic and uneasy.

"I don't know how I could hurt him like that." Blaise's voice was low. "Potter, I mean. I don't actually know him that well, but he's – he's a good person and clearly loves you very much." She scowled into the street below. "Anyway, what was I thinking, running off with that fat-ass Longbottom?"

"Well – there's actually not solid proof that that's what happened." Tristan sat slowly down beside Blaise on the window seat. "I mean, like I told everyone, I translated your letter to Dad back when Ced went off to his first year at Hogwarts. There wasn't any part that said, 'I'm shagging Longbottom and we've gone off to a condo in Tahiti.' It was all about you and Longbottom having a mission and you weren't sure how long it would take. I think the problem was – well, Dad was – " Tristan sighed, frustrated.

"It was easy to jump to conclusions," Blaise finished for her. "Maybe at first a mission sounded plausible, but when years started to go by, it was just easier to believe I'd run off, fallen for someone else."

"Cedric said Dad loved you more than anything," Tristan said haltingly. "He said the way Dad used to look at you, it was like he was seeing the sun rise over the sea for the first time." She sighed, trying to remind herself that this girl wasn't her mum yet. "You meant everything to him. When you left, you took a part of him with you."

"He – he couldn't possibly have loved me that much," Blaise whispered. Tristan couldn't see her face clearly without her glasses, but she could see the tense line of her mum's jaw and her wide, startled eyes as she turned to stare across the room at Tristan's dad.

"Cedric said he did." Tristan paused. "Why do you think your leaving unhinged him? Oh, don't look surprised," she added. "I'm not blind, however much I love him." She stopped, grinning a little. "Well, I _am_ blind, but that's not the point."

Blaise actually chuckled and to her amazement, Tristan felt a brief pressure on her hand. It was quick, but warmth spread up her arm. For the first time in her life, Tristan wondered what it was like to have a mother – another woman who knew what she felt and understood how she thought. Aunt Mione and Aunt Gin were good at that, of course, but they weren't _Tristan's_. They were on loan from her adoptive cousins.

She suddenly realized she had Blaise back, however briefly. She had proven tonight that she _did_ care for Tristan, despite everything Tristan's dad had told her to the contrary. Perhaps more than a bit, Tristan dared to hope.

Taking a deep breath, she ventured, "I miss having a mum. I mean, I don't miss it exactly because I don't remember what it was like. But I wish ... " She trailed off. A moment of silence, and then the pressure on her hand returned.

"Look," Blaise said softly. "I'm no good at sentimental rubbish, but I seriously doubt I would have left Potter and my family without a good reason. What in the world could possibly be more important that you and Cedric?"

Tristan blinked. "I don't know."

"Exactly," Blaise said.

"What about Dad?" Tristan asked tentatively.

"What about him?"

"Do you love him?"

Blaise rolled her eyes. "A few days ago he was a Gryffindork and I was a Slytherin ice queen," she pointed out. "Don't rush me."

Tristan giggled.

"Anyway, I know if I ever did fall in love with him, which I haven't," she added sternly, "I'd never leave him for Neville Longbottom. What a squib!"

"Oh, he is not."

They both looked up. Harry Potter stood just outside the square of light cut by the window frame.

"He is," Blaise retorted, her lip curling. "Should have been in Hufflepuff."

"He's brave," Harry insisted, and Tristan saw his blurry outline come to a halt beside her. "He took on Crabbe and Goyle our first year."

"He didn't!" Blaise stared up at him.

"He did." Harry nodded. "Ron gave him a talk about not letting people walk all over him, and I told him he was 'worth twelve of Malfoy' or something and he thought he was invincible." He shrugged. "Ask Malfoy, if you don't believe me."

"Sounds like you," Blaise said, her lip curling up in a smile.

"Thank you, I take that as a compliment." Harry's glasses were on the table with Tristan's, his eyes a bit unfocused like hers. He frowned. "Everything okay?"

"We're fine," Tristan said. "We're just ..."

"I'm warning her away from fat-arse Gryffindorks," Blaise said, her smile widening. "It's my duty as her mum."

"Oh, how clever you are." Harry nudged her toward Tristan on the window seat and turned slightly to stare out the window. Tristan realized Blaise's hand was still wrapped around hers. Tristan wrapped both hands around her mum's, letting herself hold on a little too tight. Blaise stared at her, surprised. She didn't pull her hand away. Tristan blinked hard and looked at her dad. He had been watching the two of them. He rested a hand on Blaise's shoulder and the three of them sat quietly, staring out into the quiet street below.

The quiet was deceptive, Tristan knew. Soho was alive twenty-four hours a day. Even at two in the morning. Her blurred vision traveled over the people passing under the street lights below. She saw a scantly clad young woman hanging on a handsome young man and a couple who were kissing, pressed up against a wall. Nearby, a group of kids Tristan's age shouted with laughter about something, sharing chips from a basket.

Tristan's came to rest on a figure standing motionless by the building. She might have missed him entirely, he was standing so close to the building; the building's shadowed draped over him, blending him into the night. She almost looked away.

A gleam of something flashed in the lamplight. A lock of brilliant red hair . . .

Tristan's eyes sharpened. She slipped from the seat, snatching her glasses from the table and hurrying back to the window.

"What is it?" Blaise asked, glancing up at her.

Tristan didn't answer right away, but leaned forward. The lone figure had been joined by a second with hunched shoulders and wild hair that blended with the dark shadows. She blinked and a third figure, long blond hair tied neatly back, joined the others. Beside that figure stood a fourth, red hair matching the first man's exactly.

"Dad!" Tristan whispered, horrified.

"What?" Harry asked, his eyes on another part of the street.

"No – _Dad_!" Tristan breathed, pointing.

Blaise glanced at her in surprise and followed her gaze. A moment later, she sat bolt upright. Harry, who had disappeared from her side for a moment, returned wearing his own glasses.

"Bloody hell! We've been found!" Blaise whispered. "We've got to get out of here – now!"

"But how did they find us? Ced talked about this place like it was a fortress," Tristan protested. Not that it mattered – they'd been found, fortress of not.

"They're Unspeakables," Harry said, getting to his feet and moving to wake the others. "They've probably all kinds of ways of getting passed wards."

"Like blood magic," Blaise murmured, following him across the room. "They're all related to at least one person in the group biologically. Unspeakables are above the law and if Potter thinks we're going to hurt Tristan – "

She didn't need to finish. Tristan and Harry shared a look – they knew what Unspeakable Harry was capable of and that he was a bit mad.

Tristan felt sick. She had always known that, eventually, she'd have to return to her father. She just always assumed she'd have found Dumbledore or Mum or something by then. Something to convince him not to lock her in her room. Or yell at her. If she were caught now, she'd be in so much trouble! She hurried to her aunt's side.

"Aunt Gin!"

"Tristan? What – " Ginny sat up, rubbing her eyes. Beside her, Draco groaned at them all to shut up.

"What is it?" Cedric was wide awake, already on his feet beside Harry. Always prepared.

"We've been found," Harry said shortly. "The four Unspeakables, as best we can tell, just outside the building. They found us here – they might be able to get inside."

"Let's not panic." Cedric moved to help them get the others up. "They're Unspeakables, yeah, but they're also our parents. They'd look up my old friends if they thought there was anything in it. Uncle Draco probably tracked Kendal down, knowing I'd have to go to him if we had problems. They could've made a lucky guess."

"Right," Draco muttered, now wide awake and scrambling to his feet. "Lucky guesses."

"Hayden!" Tristan knelt by her godbrother, too wound up to glare at him. "Get up, Malfoy!"

"Go 'way, Potter." Hayden's tousled hair appeared, gray eyes blinking sleepily up at her.

"We're so dead; our parents are here!" she hissed. "Get up, we're leaving."

"Fuck!" Hayden sat bolt-upright, knocking Tristan backward. "My dad's going to – fuck!"

"Hayden, that's enough," Ginny said sharply.

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, boy," Draco added, then looked properly horrified at himself.

"I'm going to get Ken," Cedric said, hurrying out of the room.

"Where're we going?" Dorian asked, wide-eyed.

"Back on the road, obviously," Blaise said, already gathering rucksacks in the middle of the room. Hayden and Tristan moved together to help her, grabbing as much food as they could manage from the leftovers on the tables by the fire.

"I'll get our cloaks." Dorian disappeared into the entry.

" – out the roof." Kendal reappeared beside Cedric, looking properly alarmed at the idea of four Unspeakables on his doorstep, for all his talk of living on the edge. "The only way to get up there is through the flat. No Apparating or Portkeys. There's a fire escape ladder that only works going down – magic," he added simply when Blaise raised her eyebrows. "Get down that way and head for the subway station two blocks south of here."

"Where do we go from the station?" Ginny asked anxiously, her eyes wide as she replenished the first aid kits with the help of Eric, sleep-tousled but as wide awake as Kendal.

"Knockturn Alley," Kendal said grimly. "There's a trap door built into one of the loos in a station near King's Cross."

"Charming," Draco muttered.

Tristan shivered. They always joked about going into Knockturn Alley but ...

"We won't be there long," Cedric promised, ruffling her hair in passing. He and Kendal began magicking all the bedding into neat piles, floating all evidence of the eight people in the room into different parts of the flat. Nothing to give the Unspeakables even a hint that their query had ever been here.

Because they'd get into the flat eventually, Tristan was sure. Kendal wouldn't be able to stop them – just stall for enough time to get them into Knockturn Alley.

"Yeah, we'll head there for a bit of a makeover," Cedric was saying. "We can't risk being seen in Diagon Alley until Harry Potter looks completely unlike himself – in fact, we'll all have to look totally different. We can't do the magic here – no time. But the Unspeakables shouldn't be able to trace us once we're in with so many other wizards – the magics will be too hard to separate."

"Come on, you've got to move." Kendal began handing out shoes (clean of mud and dirt, thank god – the footprints on the carpet would be hard to miss) and cloaks. Everyone took a rucksack. Harry and Cedric checked for cloaks, Marauders' Map, and brooms –

The buzzer went. Everyone froze. After a moment, Kendal moved slowly to the box by the door. He reached slowly out, making a slashing motion across his throat. Everyone stayed motionless, hardly daring to breathe.

"What?" Kendal croaked into the box, sounding like he'd just rolled out of bed`.

"Hello up there."

Tristan shivered. She felt Hayden, close beside her, gasp and then swallow hard. His fist, clenching and unclenching, brushed Tristan's arm.

"Yes, can I help you?" Kendal ground out. He quirked a finger. Cedric turned silently, moving toward the kitchen doorway. He disappeared, then reappeared and motioned everyone toward him. Ginny went first, shuffling as quietly as she could. The others followed, single file.

"I hope so," Tristan's uncle Draco said casually, as though he were negotiating a price on a broomstick rather than knocking at someone's door at three in the morning. "My name's Malfoy. I'm with the Unspeakables. I was wondering if my friends and I could come up and have a look around."

"Why in Merlin's name would you and your friends want to look around my sodding flat at this time of night?" Ken snapped as Eric disappeared into one of the bedrooms with the last of the extra mess from the sitting room. Tristan slid along the carpet, testing each step to make sure nothing creaked or cracked or groaned under her boot. One loose board would tell her uncle and her father and whoever else was out there all they needed to know.

"We're conducting a search." Draco's voice was still light, conversational. Tristan threw a look over her shoulder at Hayden and Dorian. Their eyes were wide and they shared a look of sheer panic. Calm Uncle Draco was the scariest Uncle Draco. "We have this funny feeling you might be able to help us, as our problem involves your friend Cedric Potter."

Cedric Potter motioned for them to hurry up. Tristan risked a faster shuffle, squeezing into the kitchen after Dorian.

"What's Ced done this time?" Kendal sounded amused. "Haven't seen him in ages. Did he rob Gringotts? It's been on his to-do list since Hogwarts." He sent a final gesture at Cedric, who stilled and motioned the others to do the same for a moment.

"I'm sure he's capable of that," Uncle Draco murmured. Cedric rolled his eyes, moving forward and closing the kitchen door. Then he squeezed passed the rest of them and opened a door that looked like it might belong to the pantry. Instead, it led through a narrow hallway to a dark set of narrower stairs.

As Tristan hurried after the others through the hallway, she heard her uncle's voice said coolly, "Do you know how long I've been an Unspeakable, young man? Long enough to know when I'm being lied to. But since we're playing games, I'll tell you exactly what Cedric has done. He's pulled you into his little quest by asking you to harbor him, my son, my nephew, his sister, and four other teens as fugitives. He's told you some drivel about finding Albus Dumbledore and claims to be protecting his sister and cousin from a madman. Now, I suggest you let us in right now before Cedric's father breaks down your front door. He will probably destroy your flat in a fit of rage and I'm very good at getting him out of legal battles with the Ministry because I've had so much practice – "

Tristan winced and hoped her father didn't hurt anyone. Or anyone's flat. That was hardly fair on Kendal. She squeezed up the stairway after Dorian. Cedric, in front, pushed open a trap door and helped everyone out onto the roof.

"Ced, what if Kendal can't hold them off?" Harry demanded, following him to the edge of the building and hefting his rucksack higher on his shoulders.

"He'll manage," Cedric assured them. "He's had an alibi worked out since we arrived, count on it. He's not a free man for nothing, you know." Tristan grinned in spite of herself. Kendal was definitely not a criminal. He just broke rules that didn't work for him. And he helped others do the same. Tristan had grown up on stories about Kendal and Cedric's adventures at Hogwarts (catch her admitting that to her dad!).

Glancing over the edge of the building, Tristy had to bite down a gasp. The apartment complex was only six floors or so but there was difference between that height on a state-of-the-art broom and a rickety metal ladder that looked as though it could have done with replacing twenty years ago.

"Right." Cedric looked around at them all. "Here's the plan. Everyone see that blue and red sign, two blocks from here?"

Tristan squinted; she could just make it out.

"That's the Piccadilly Circus station," Cedric said. "In order to get to the station that has our entrance into Knockturn Alley, we're going to have to catch a train to a station near King's Cross. Try to stay together but if anyone gets separated, we'll meet outside King's Cross and walk back from there." He handed around little slips of paper. "Kendal keeps emergency Underground tickets lying around. You have to have this to get on the train – don't lose it!"

"I'll go first," Harry piped up. He vaulted over the edge of the building after a quick look down at the empty street below.

"I'm next," Blaise said quickly, hurrying to follow. Tristan saw her swallow hard before climbing over the edge and descending after Harry. "Tristan," she called up. "You next."

Tristan felt a warm glow in her chest; it worked its way around the fear flickering there.

"Go on, Tris." Cedric motioned her forward. "And then you, Den. Then Ian."

"You're just hoping I'll catch her again," Hayden complained. "We just got my shoulder sorted."

"Sod off – I wished I'd torn your arm off!" Tristan snapped. She clambered over the edge of the building, careful not to look down.

"Scared, Potter?" Hayden's cool voice kept her from pausing.

"You wish," she murmured.

"Don't enjoy watching my bum too much," Hayden said, following her down.

"As though I'd look," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're so common, Malfoy."

"Would you two shut up? We're going to get caught and hung by our guts from Uncle Harry's rafters," Dorian hissed from above them.

Tristan grunted and climbed faster. It was easier than she'd thought, not having to look down but instead facing a building wall.

"Almost there, Tris." Her father and mother waited at the bottom, supporting her as she stepped off the last rung.

"Thanks," she said.

"Let's never do that again," Dorian said, as he stepped off the ladder and helped Ginny down after him. Tristan saw the tell-tale sweat on his upper lip. She patted his arm. Draco and Cedric hopped down.

"We have to go in pairs," Cedric murmured. "Stick to the shadows – if they're inside the apartment, they'll be able to see the station sign and anyone under or near the street signs. Tris and Den, you'll go first."

"Why?" they demanded at the same time.

"Don't argue with him, just go!" Harry said. "We'll be right behind you."

"Hurry up, Potter!" Hayden grabbed Tristan's hand and pulled her into a run. They ducked across the street, hugging the side of a block of flats and trying to slide unnoticed under street lights.

"We have to cross the street," Tristan pointed out, not letting go of his hand. She thought up several nasty retorts to throw at him later when he would inevitably make fun of her for it.

"Let's wait until we're across from the station," Hayden suggested. "If we give everyone else away before they have a chance to get away from the building, it won't matter if we make it to the station or not. Oh, that's inconspicuous," he added with a look at her. "Good job keeping it Muggle, Tris." She glanced down, realizing for the first time she was wearing her very full-length witch's traveling cloak in Muggle London. A glance at Hayden showed that he'd thought to store his in his rucksack.

"My bad," she admitted, her breath short from the run. "I wasn't really thinking about Muggles. I just knew I'd be cold and I think I lost my jumper somewhere."

"I brought an extra jumper," Hayden panted, not looking at her. "You could have borrowed that."

She bit her lip and didn't look at him. "How would I have known that?" she demanded after a moment's awkward silence. They reached the end of the block, ducking out of the shadows long enough to hurry across the street and down the deserted station steps. "Since when have we even borrowed each others' clothes? Anyway, you hate me and – "

"I don't hate you." The admission was so quiet that Tristan, panting, almost missed it. But it completely threw her off and she nearly tripped over the next step. Hayden's hand tightened around hers.

"You – you don't?"

"No," he murmured uncomfortably. "I just – don't like you very much."

"Oh, I see." Something unpleasant slipped into Tristan's stomach. She dropped his hand. "What a comfort."

They found the barriers leading into the station and withdrew their tickets. Ginny and Draco appeared coming down the steps just meters behind them. Tristan stuck her card into the slot and was pleased when a little green light winked on the barrier opened, leaving a space just wide enough for her to squeeze through.

"What were you expecting me to say?" Hayden demanded, sorting out his own card and following her through.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting anything," she said coldly. "Why should I? You'd only let me down, as usual."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, right." She turned away, balling her hands into fists and swallowing. "What a shock for you – the idea that you let me down."

"I'm not the one who ruined our friendship," he snapped. "You did that!"

Tristan turned on him, peripherally aware that the other groups were coming through the barrier. "Here's a little something to think about, Malfoy," she said through her teeth. "Who really suffered who I got sorted – _not by choice_ – into Slytherin? I mean, really. Who paid the price? Think about that, why don't you!"

She hurried to Cedric's side. He caught her hand without seeing her face and pulled her along with him toward the trains.

"Thank Merlin you're safe," he murmured. He frowned. "Muggles are giving us funny looks. Why are you wearing a cloak?"

"Shut up – I was cold." She swallowed hard and told herself to pull it together.

"I packed an extra jumper for you," Cedric said, squeezing her hand. "Why didn't you ask me, little girl? You know I'm going to take care of you."

"Oh, Ced, please stop." Tristan sniffled and glared ahead through fogging glasses.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Nothing," she snapped as he led her down a moving stairway and onto a waiting train. The others followed close behind and Tristan buried her head in Cedric's shoulder, her glasses hanging in her hand at her side.

"Three stops," Cedric told them, cradling Tristan against him with one arm and holding onto a handle with another. "No one fall asleep."

"How's your shoulder, Hayden?" Tristan heard Ginny ask.

"Good as new, Mum," he said, sounding a little distracted.

"I'm glad. You tell me if it acts up," she ordered.

"_Mum_," Hayden stressed, his embarrassment evident.

"Don't fuss, Weasley," Draco said, sounding just like Tristan's Uncle Draco and making her smile a tiny smile.

"Tristan?"

Tristan peeked around Cedric's shoulder. Blaise stood nearby, watching her.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, surprised and pleased to be asked. "Just – it's nothing."

"If you're sure ..."

"I mean," she said, faltering. After all, it wasn't like her real mum had been around to help her deal with the Hayden issue. "I'm not but – I can deal."

"Yeah, well," Blaise said, a knowing expression in her eyes. "So can I. But you don't have to, you know. It's – it's okay to ask for help."

"From you?" Tristan asked before she could stop herself.

"If I can help," Blaise said slowly. "I'd like to."

"Thanks." Tristan dried her eyes on Cedric's collar, cleaned her spectacles on her handkerchief, and tried not to fall over at the subway car lurched along the track.

"Almost there, Ced?" Dorian actually yawned. Tristan supposed she ought to be exhausted, too.

"Eyes open, Ian," Cedric said, nudging him. "Come on, mate, no sleep until we can get out of London."

"Sleep, nothing," Dorian retorted with another ferocious yawn. "Feed me."

"Gods, boy, where the hell do you put it all?" Draco demanded. He sat very still in a bench by the door, looking a little green.

"I'm a growing lad – "

"Yeah, yeah, we know." Blaise winked at Tristan. Tristan replaced her glasses and managed a smile.

"Tris, come on." Cedric nudged her as the car lurched to a halt and she hurried after him out of the car. They climbed a set of stairs and followed Cedric through a large, deserted station.

"Let's go, I want to get this over with," Harry murmured as they walked, more to himself than anyone else. "I've only been to Knockturn Alley once and that was enough for me."

"What, afraid of the dark?" Draco said with a smirk.

"Uncle George says it's cool, though," Dorian said with another yawn. "Everything evil and ugly lives there."

"Oh, goody." Tristan exchanged a look with Ginny.

They followed Cedric passed a beggar and an old man smoking. The men's loo doorway they reached said "Out of Order" in a sloppy scrawl. Cedric pushed the squeaky door open and they all piled into the cramped space. Naturally, they were the only ones in there. As the door closed behind Ginny and Draco, Cedric turned to face them.

"Now listen carefully," he said. "I know some of you have been here, but this particular entrance is only known to a few people. It's difficult and we can only go through one at a time. Here's how it works. The name 'Knockturn' is actually a riddle. Not only does it imply night and darkness, but it's two distinct words – 'Knock' and 'Turn.' So what you're going to do is _knock_ three times on this wall here," he indicated the one behind him, "and then _turn_ it clockwise."

"Turn it?" Dorian said. "How do you turn a wall?"

"Like this." Cedric placed his hands on the wall, the left high and the right lower down. Then he slid his hands around in a circle, going clockwise as he's said. He stopped and straightened.

"I'm not going to go first because I want to make sure you all make it through." He looked around at them. "Who's first?"

"I'll go," Blaise, Harry, and Draco spoke up. Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'm going," he said firmly. "I know the Alley pretty well." Before anyone could object he stepped forward, knocked three times on the wall, and slid his hands around. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the wall seemed to melt backward into a spinning vortex of gray stone. Draco, his hands evidently stuck to the surface, began to spin. After three or four fast rotations, he was sucked into the whirlpool and the wall stopped spinning.

"All right, Mum, you next," Cedric said quickly. "I don't want anyone alone in there."

Tristan's mum came forward without hesitation, ignoring Harry's protests. She knocked, turned the wall, and vanished through. She was followed by Harry, Dorian, and Ginny.

"Go on, Tris." Cedric motioned her forward. Aware that Hayden was staring at her back, waiting for her to make a mistake, she strolled quickly up to the wall. Raising her hand, she rapped three times against the cold wall. Then she pushed her hands around. She felt as though something very strong was holding her against the wall. She felt the spinning and a strange feeling of liquidity. Then she fell forward.

"Tristan!" Her father had caught her against his chest. He set her gently back on her feet.

"I'm fine," she assured him, staring around at the dark, dingy alley into which she had fallen. "Wow."

"Home sweet home," Draco drawled.

"Oh, you've only been here twice," Blaise said, rolling her eyes. "It's not like you're some creature of the night or whatever you fancy yourself."

"He thinks a spot of evil makes him _bad_," Ginny said, wiggling her fingers in his face.

"Both of you can sod right off!" he said grouchily.

"Oof!"

Tristan felt something slam into her and she pitched forward, hitting the ground hard and feeling her breath leave her lungs in a whoosh of air.

"Bloody hell, Den, can't keep your hands off her for five seconds," came Dorian's amused voice. Tristan gasped a moment – when air gushed back into her chest a moment later, she groped around for a moment, searching for her glasses. She found them and slid them back onto her face.

"You all right?" Blaise and Harry appeared above her and helped her up. Tristan became aware of about eight of her mother reflected in the cracked left lens of her specs.

"Turn around, Tristan," Harry said, taking out his wand. "_Oculus Reparo._" The glass cleared, the eight Blaises resolving into one.

"After years with glasses, I finally had Hermione teach me that one," Harry explained, smiling at her.

"You taught me right before I started at Hogwarts," Tristan told him, dusting herself off and wincing at the series of bruises she could feel blossoming on her knees and elbows. "Nice aim, Malfoy," she added coldly. "And while my back was turned. Not a new strategy, but – "

"Tris." Cedric gave her a look, then turned a glare on his cousin. "No more touching, Malfoy."

"Oy!" Hayden howled. "She was blocking the entrance. Not my fault she didn't move." His lip curled at her.

"Poor Tristan, you're a mess!" Ginny gave her son an unimpressed look and hurried to help Tristan dust herself off. A mess, she was, and Tristan realized she'd fallen into a shallow puddle. She didn't dare look at Hayden, who must have been enjoying the sight. Ginny went to work with her wand ("We're safe to, now we're in magical London" Tristan's aunt reasoned) and Tristan felt a bit less like her recent shower had been totally wasted.

"Thanks, Aunt Gin. Mum," she added.

"Let's move," Cedric said. "I want to be at the entrance to Diagon Alley before we disguise ourselves. Then we'll have to wait it out until daylight. Can't wander around this early in the morning."

Hayden slid back to walk beside Tristan as they all hurried after Cedric. "Who knows when we're going to be showering next, so try to keep from playing in the mud until then," he said, malicious delight in the words.

"Try to keep your hands off me, if you can," she said coolly. "You touching me would be more a reason to shower than a little mud."

She left him muttering expletives behind her, the urge to cry fading into the old familiar urge to rip his tongue out.

A fine omen for the trip ahead ...

**)PvsM(**

**TBC**


	10. In Which Everyone Predicts a Snog

**A/N**: I had a great time with this chapter, although I lost the original edit halfway through, owing to a USB malfunction. Now, though, it has a nicely reworked plot that fits much more effectively with the overall plot. Plus, it just reads six hundred times better! Hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good …(of course it's not ours!)

**)PvsM(**

"This way." Cedric led them down through Knockturn Alley, his stride sure. Ginny wondered how many times he'd come this way before. "We're going to need a dark alley, somewhere no one will catch us and where we can kip for a few hours before daybreak."

Ginny glanced around. "Take your pick," she mumbled, sidling closer to Harry. He'd been lost in Knockturn Alley by himself, the summer before Ginny's first year. By sound of it, Hagrid had only just saved him from a hag.

"We'll need something close to Diagon Alley," Harry pointed out, pushing his shoulder reassuringly against Ginny's. "If someone catches eight Hogwarts students wandering out of Knockturn Alley, we're finished."

"We're pretty close to Diagon Alley already," Cedric said. "Here, this'll do."

He led them into a cramped alleyway between two seedy shops. Ginny peered down the alley beyond and thought she saw the edge of Quality Quidditch Supplies, though it was hard to tell in the dark.

"We should go into Diagon Alley in pairs," Blaise said. She rubbed her hands over her arms as if chilled. However at-home Draco might pretend to be in Knockturn Alley, Blaise wasn't going to. "No one goes anywhere alone."

"Dad, you should go with Ced," Tristan spoke up from between Harry and Blaise. "All you need to do is change your hair and eye color and you could pass for brothers."

"Small matter of Uncle Harry's blindingly obvious scar," Dorian pointed out, yawning.

"Just straighten his fringe," Draco said grouchily. Ginny could tell he wished he were back in bed, almost as much as Dorian.

"She's right." Harry stepped forward to stand beside Cedric. Ginny studied them. So long as their hair and eye color changed to keep them inconspicuous, they'd be the spitting image of twin brothers.

"I think it would also be smart if Cedric didn't look quite so much like an escaped convict," Blaise added, tilting her head to one side. She sounded almost affectionate. "I'm thinking Hogwarts robes and blond hair."

Draco, Hayden, Tristan, and Dorian sniggered. Cedric and Harry both scowled at Blaise.

"What?" she demanded. "You two stand out like hyppogryffs in a flower garden. Turn you blond and you're practically invisible."

"Potter'll look like such a twat!" Draco was almost beside himself with delight, all grouchiness gone. Harry sent a rude gesture at him and then looked guiltily at Tristan.

"Nothing I haven't seen before, Dad," she said, rolling her eyes as she studied her father and brother. "Oh, hang on," she said a minute later, digging in her pocket. Looking back at her father, she grinned. "How'd you like to be a Slytherin prefect, Daddy?"

"Oh, it's been my life's ambition," Harry said with a helpless sigh. Tristan giggled and Cedric cracked a smile.

"Oh, wait!" Hayden had pulled his rucksack from his back. A moment later, he withdrew another badge. "Here, Ced. Gryffindor prefect." He smirked. "I know you were always jealous I got it and you didn't."

"Oh, obviously I was devastated," Cedric muttered. He and Harry exchanged dark looks before accepting the badges.

"And here." Tristan pulled off her cloak, which happened to be one of her Hogwarts set, and handed it to her brother. "Just lengthen these a bit and they'll cover your shirt and combat boots."

"Draco, didn't you bring one of your cloaks as well?" Blaise asked, a wicked twinkle in her eye. "In fact, you had on your Quidditch kit when we got to Red's Park – "

"No bloody way is Potter wearing my robes!" He backed away, keeping his rucksack behind him.

"What, still believe in cooties?" Tristan teased.

"Honestly, Malfoy, we don't have time for this," Ginny said. "Just give Harry the damned cloak."

Draco opened his mouth to argue, but perhaps he realized that everyone was staring impatiently at him because after a moment he shut his mouth and thrust his rucksack into Harry's arms.

"You'll be replacing that cloak when we get out of here, Potter," he snapped. Harry gave him an ironic look.

"If we get out of here." He pulled the thick, expensive robe from the rucksack where Draco had stashed it and tossed the pack back to its owner. Then he pulled it on over his jumper.

"Hang on," Ginny said, a sudden and, now that she thought about it, obvious problem occurring to her. "Why would two Hogwarts prefects be wandering around Diagon Alley at this time of year?"

"Easter hols," Cedric said, examining his sister's cloak critically. It barely reached his knees and he couldn't get his arms through the sleeves. "Kids are all over the Alley the week of Easter. Tons of deals at Quality Quidditch, plus WWW has their annual unveiling."

"WWW?" Harry asked, fastening Draco's cloak around his shoulders and not looking terribly happy about it.

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Hayden supplied. His eyes were trained on his father, who had returned to looking grouchy and sleep-deprived. "Uncle Fred and Uncle George's business. We're told it's the Zonko's Joke Shop of our time."

So Fred and George had been successful after all, despite their mum's dark predictions of destitution before the first year was up. It was nice to know there was justice somewhere in the futuristic world.

"Get rid of the boots, Ced," Tristan cut in. She studied her brother, her head on one side. Ginny agreed. Even though the cloak was pristine, well-tailored, and attached to a prefect's badge, Cedric still looked like a rogue.

"What if Ced wears my shirt?" Hayden offered. He had borrowed one of Kendal's button-down oxfords and it seemed in good condition. He unbuttoned the shirt and tossed it to Cedric. Cedric, who had borrowed a tight black undershirt that did nothing to make him look inconspicuous, sighed loudly. He pulled of his shirt and tossed it back to Hayden.

All this shirtless business made Ginny dread the moment Draco inevitably removed his.

"That does it." Blaise nodded, her eyes on her son, rather than his father. Harry and Cedric glanced at each other and grinned. Cedric looked much less roguish in an oxford and a lot like Harry's twin.

"But, Ced, do get rid of the boots," Tristan pleaded again. "No prefect would wear those and if Dad or Uncle Draco got a half-second's look at you, they'd know the boots on sight."

"Ced, your feet and Malfoy's are probably the same size," Harry pointed out, his lip twitching as he glanced at Draco.

"Look, Potter – " he began, literally spitting the name.

"Wait a minute," Blaise said slowly, eyeing the boys. "I think we're going about this the wrong way. Potter and Draco should pair up."

"What?" everyone demanded, staring at Blaise like she was mad.

"Just listen," she insisted. "Potter and Draco are famous for the strops they're always having with each other, right?"

"Right," Ginny said, still mystified.

"Oy!" said Draco and Harry, glaring at her.

"So present-day Potter and Draco would never expect themselves to team up or that anyone else would let them," Blaise said. "Also, they look like exact opposites, but if we change around their hair and eye color a bit, we could pass them off for housemates, couldn't we?"

Ginny could see what she meant. Draco and Harry against each other were often irritating, but teamed together they'd be a sight. They were both tall, both imposing, and both intense at the best of times.

"Do we have a second Quidditch kit?" Tristan asked.

"Mine's in one of the packs," Harry said grimly.

"No, you lot have to be from the same House, obviously," Blaise cut in. "Potter can wear Draco's Quidditch kit and Draco can wear his own robes."

"Potter is not, under any circumstances, wearing my kit," Draco snarled.

Tristan and Dorian giggled because they were suddenly five years old. Draco glowered at the pair of them and Harry went red.

"You know it's good plan, Draco," Blaise said. "Anyway, you can ritualistically burn everything Potter touches and buy new things when we get home."

"I hate existence," Draco said succinctly. He tossed his rucksack back to Harry. Harry shrugged Draco's robes back off and tossed them back to him.

"Wash, wash, never clean," Draco chanted, pulling on the robes Harry had recently vacated.

"Least you each get to be a Quidditch captain or a prefect," Hayden pointed out. His father glared at him.

"Shut up, boy," he advised

"Make me," Hayden said, sticking out his tongue.

Harry and Cedric stepped quickly between father and son, just in case.

"Sod off," Draco advised, stropping off to lounge against the alley wall and look sullen at everything. He was starting to remind Ginny of the way he'd been at Red's Park.

"Harry," Ginny said suddenly. "Give Malfoy your glasses."

Draco looked at Ginny as though she'd signed his execution order or he wished she would.

"He's worried they'll ruin his Grecian profile," Tristan murmured. "Not to worry, Uncle."

"You can shut up as well, tiny Potter," Draco snapped.

"I don't want him wearing my specs," Harry cut in, looking alarmed. "How the hell am I supposed to see anything?"

"On second thought, hand those over," Draco said, reaching eagerly for the glasses.

"Your eyesight's all right, Harry," Ginny pointed out. "I mean, it's not perfect, but you can manage as long as you don't have to read anything."

"Or walk properly," Harry said, looking hunting as he handed over his glasses.

"Oh, my god, Potter, how do you function?" Draco demanded, blinking through the thick lenses.

"Think, for a moment, about what you're doing to me," Harry said morosely to Ginny.

"Draco won't let anything happen to you, or we'll all kill him," Blaise said cheerfully.

"What a comfort," Harry grumbled, groping his way to the alley wall. Draco was still adjusting Harry's glasses and both of them looked unhappy.

"It would help if I could see," they chorused.

Ginny wasn't the only one who gave an exhausted laugh.

"Draco, we'll make the lenses clear for you. Potter, live with it," Blaise said, still smiling. "Now, all we need is to fix their hair."

"Allow me." Cedric came forward and stood between his father and uncle, withdrawing his wand from his pocket. Tapping Harry's head, he muttered an incantation before quickly transferring the wand to the top of Draco's head. An instant later, both their hair began to drain of all color. Cedric murmured something under his breath. Color returned to Draco's head first. His hair darkened, hanging in long black locks around his face, his eyebrows staining the same color as his hair. A moment later, Harry's began to fill in, turning his unruly curls and thick brows platinum blond.

"Oh, my _god_!" Tristan said faintly, staring in fascination at her father and uncle. Everyone else stared as well. Harry reacted first, snatching his glasses off Draco's nose and grabbing for his wand. He went to the nearest dingy shop window and murmured, "_Lumos_." Draco was right behind him. Another moment of silence as they examined their reflections, then –

"Change. Me. Back," Draco ordered, his eyes filled with horror.

"It's perfect, Cedric," Ginny said. Surreal was more like it. Harry looked completely unrecognizable, apart from the glasses and barely visible scar. The blonde hair made the rosy color in his cheeks, normally obscured by his tan, stand out sharply. It still did a fine job of hiding his scar.

Draco looked unfortunately like a miniature Snape, though possibly less greasy. Ginny couldn't decide if he looked better or not.

"He looks like Brandon Boyd," Tristan said to Dorian, who nodded fervently.

"Brilliant," Dorian agreed.

"Who?" Hayden asked.

"Muggle band," Tristan and Dorian said absently.

"Sod you, little Potter, I look like a bloody Muggle!" Draco snarled at Cedric, snapping out of his stunned trance and stalking back into the alley. "Hope you're happy, Zabini!"

"Not quite – Potter, the glasses," Blaise called to Harry, who was still staring at himself with his mouth slightly open. After a moment, he glanced up at Blaise with a martyred expression.

"I look Swedish," he said faintly. Cedric choked back a laugh.

"You lot will make quite an impression on Diagon Alley," Cedric said, shaking his head.

"I don't want to see anymore," Harry said childishly, throwing his glasses at Draco.

"Me, either," the Slytherin agreed, jamming the glasses back on.

"I hope we don't all have to go through this," Tristan said skeptically.

"You can't look much worse than you do now," Hayden put in helpfully. Tristan slugged him in the arm and he looked like he might slug her back.

"Cut it out, you two," Cedric ordered, grabbing Hayden's shoulder.

"Who next?" Harry asked grouchily.

"Whoever it is, they can't possibly have it worse than I do," Draco muttered, slouching against the wall.

"I think Ian and Mum should go together," Hayden said thoughtfully. "They look an awful lot alike. All you'd need to do is put Ian into some decent clothes - "

"Hey!"

" - and change their hair color."

"Make it dull brown," Blaise said, her head angled again as she studied Ginny. "No one'll notice her then."

Ginny glared at her. "What about you?" she demanded. "Apart from your eyes, everyone notices your hair first."

Everyone looked at Blaise's hair.

"Shut up," she muttered.

"Why don't you have it off?" Tristan said suddenly.

Blaise looked as though someone had told her to kill a puppy.

"What if you all do?" Hayden said, smirking at Tristan.

"I'm going to use my hair to gag you in a minute, Malfoy," she snapped, wrapping a protective hand around her long plait.

Ginny caught her long red curls in her fingers. She'd been growing it for ages …

"Look, if we all get out of this, you lot will never have cut your hair in the first place," Harry began cautiously.

"Except me!" Tristan wailed. "Ced," she said, blinking huge green eyes at him.

Cedric very carefully didn't look at her. "We're on the run," he said. "You three have this gorgeous but totally useless long hair and if it comes to a fight, the hair's not going to help you at all. Anyway, it's really very noticeable. Hayden's right – have it off."

The girls glanced at each other. "I hate men," Ginny said devoutly.

"No idea at all," Blaise added.

"Do I have to?" Tristan asked her mother in a small voice.

There was a long, long pause.

"I'll do it for you two," Ginny said at last, swallowing. "I used to cut my mum's hair and sometimes my brothers. I think I have some idea what to do about you two." She glanced at her niece. "Tristan, I think you need it over with first."

She pulled her wand out and Tristan grabbed Blaise's hand. "I've never had my hair cut," she said faintly.

Hayden opened his mouth but yelped as Cedric's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Good catch," Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Make the boys go away, please," Tristan said, her voice even smaller.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Draco muttered, but he grabbed his son and nephew and dragged them around the corner of the alley.

"You'll look wonderful, I know you will," Harry said, patting Tristan's shoulder in passing.

"You'll be even faster at Quidditch, Tris," Cedric added with a wink.

"You ready, Tristan?" Ginny asked as the boys vanished around the corner.

Tristan set her teeth and gripped Blaise's hand. Shutting her eyes tight, she said, "Whatever you're going to do, just do it quickly."

A few moments later, Tristan squealed as the first cut came. Long shafts of black curls tumbled onto the alley floor. Blaise bit her lip as she watched Ginny work. She didn't comment as Ginny went shorter and shorter, Tristan's black curls crinkling closer and closer to her scalp.

"That should do it," Ginny said, stepping back and looking Tristan over.

"Good job, too," Blaise admitted, looking her daughter over. She squeezed Tristan's hand. "You okay, Tristan?"

"I don't know," Tristan said shakily, opening her eyes. "Am I bald?" She reached a hand up to feel her head.

"It's very very short," Ginny admitted. "But I once did my mum's this way – it's curly like yours – and it looked nice."

"Okay, you now," Tristan said to Blaise. She kept her eyes off the alley floor. Ginny thought they could probably have made a coat from all Tristan's discarded hair.

"Zabini, even shorter, I think," Ginny said. "Your hair is heavy and straight, so it'll hold a nice shape. Is that okay?"

"Whatever," Blaise said, trying to sound indifferent. Tristan squeezed her hand and Blaise managed a smile.

Five minutes later, Ginny stepped back and examined her handy-work in the light of Tristan's wand.

"Wow, Aunt Gin," Tristan said. "You weren't kidding."

"Long as it looks okay," Blaise muttered, feeling the two inches of hair atop her head.

"Not just anyone could pull it off," Tristan told her, "but, Mum, you're a knock-out."

"Thanks," Blaise muttered. "Weasley, what're we going to do about you?"

"Something simple," Ginny said quickly. "Since neither of you have cut hair before."

Blaise pulled out her wand, Tristan kept hers lit, and a few minutes later Ginny's hard-earned red hair mingled with the pile of black on the alley floor.

"Can we come back yet?" Draco asked irritably from around the corner. "We'd like a kip sometime before I turn eighty-five."

Blaise murmured something and the hair on the alley floor vanished. "Don't want a hag or a hedgewitch getting hold of that stuff," she explained. "They do scary work with hair. Yes, your bloody albino highness, you can come back."

"Bout time, too," Dorian began. He came around the corner first and stared. "Wow."

"That made a difference," Harry said faintly, after a long pause.

"Whatever, we're over it," Blaise said. "Stop staring so we can sort the rest of you out."

The boys trooped slowly back into the alley. Ginny caught Draco's eye as he followed Cedric in. Despite his grouchiness, Draco gave her a nod and a wink and Ginny tried very hard not to blush.

They sorted out the rest of the costumes and pairings, covering their yawns and drooping eyelids with less and less success. Finally, Harry and Cedric cast protective charms around the group and an alarm charm to wake them when Diagon Alley opened. Then everyone curled up and fell immediately to sleep.

**)PvsM(**

"This," said Hayden the next morning as he and Tristan slipped carefully into Diagon Alley, "is, without a doubt, the worst ruddy day of my life!" He reached out to readjust Tristan's glasses on his nose. She could just make out the blurred shape of his hand moving. "And I hate your specs."

"_Worst ruddy day of my life_," Tristan mimicked furiously, reaching up again to finger her hair. "All you had to do was trade clothes with your stupid dad! I lost a foot and a half of hair! Do you have any idea – ?"

"Oh, who gives a toss about your hair?" the Gryffindor retorted. His own has been turned black like hers and then stuck straight up all over his head with half a bottle of Dorian's styling potion.

"You look like an absolute git," Tristan spat.

"You can't even see me," Hayden said, smirking at her as she stumbled.

"On the bright side," Tristan shot back. Her angry steam began to ebb as she threw a nervous glance up the crowded, brightly lit main street of the Alley. All she could see were blurred shadows, barely enough to keep her from walking into lamp posts and early morning shoppers. "At least Dad won't catch us first."

"Oh, yeah?" Hayden muttered. "And why's that?" Absently, he pulled her to the left in time to keep her from crashing into a sign post.

"We're the pair no one would expect," Tristan said, not bothering to thank him since she just knew he was still smirking at her. "For one thing, it's stupid for us to be alone together when Red Robes is targeting us. For another, we're the ones likely to mess everything up by pitching a 'bitch fit', as Ian would call it."

"Only one of us is bloody fool enough to do that – it's not me, by the way – and I'd also like to remind you that I'm not female, a Potter, or a Slytherin, and don't pitch fits in a bitchy way."

"Oh, so it's just the regular kind for you, then?" she snapped, cursing when she tripped over a loose paving stone.

"I didn't think you could get any worse at walking," Hayden snickered, reaching out a hand to steady her. She shook him off, anger flaring again. "What?" Hayden demanded. "I'm just trying to help."

"You never once tried to help me!" Tristan hissed. "And you're laughing at me now."

"Guess I'll let you fall next time." Tristan could hear him sulking.

"You won't," she countered flatly. "Because if I fall, it'll slow us down."

He was silent, except the occasional grunt of irritation when Tristan stumbled and he had to catch her. He did, every time, but Tristan knew she was right. He wasn't doing it for her. "What do you mean, I never helped you?" he demanded suddenly.

"What I said," Tristan told him. "You never once stuck your neck out for me, even when we – when we were kids."

"I did!" Hayden said, so indignantly that Tristan almost smiled.

"When?"

"Loads of times," he snapped, grabbing her elbow and tugging her out of the path of two dark blobs (presumably wizards) moving down the sidewalk.

"When?" she repeated. "You spent all your time getting mad at me for things that weren't my fault. And like a fool," she added, with a harsh laugh at herself, "I apologized. I thought, all that time, I was doing something wrong." She shook her head. "I was blind."

"Still are," Hayden said darkly.

"Not in the important ways," she said softly, thinking suddenly of her mum, somewhere in Diagon Alley. Tristan suddenly smiled, anger fading again. She liked Blaise's new haircut. She also liked Blaise's smile when she looked at Tristan and Blaise's callused hands holding hers. Proper Mum stuff.

"We – we should hurry," Tristan mumbled, embarrassed by the tender thoughts. "We've only got fifteen minutes and we have to find those guide books. I hope Dad doesn't kill Uncle Draco because I like Uncle Draco and if he dies now, he can't be my godfather when he's old and – "

"Tristan," Hayden cut in. "Please shut up."

"Right," she murmured. Gritting her teeth, she reigned in her babbling. It wasn't like he knew she was thinking good thoughts about her mum for the first time in her life.

She jumped as Hayden's hand slid down her arm and his fingers laced through hers. "Get that look off your face," he murmured coldly. "We're supposed to be pretending to be going out, remember? No one will believe it if I let you walk into a building."

"Sod off, love-muffin," Tristan hissed. "This, for me, is an all-time low," she added. "Amber can't ever know this happened."

"Ian once did a study," Hayden told her conversationally, "and thinks that sixty percent of all girls at Hogwarts want to go out with me."

"How much did you pay him to rig the study?" Tristan asked sweetly. "I mean, oh, I'm so envious, I just know you'll leave me for another girl any time now."

She could feel his surprise, even if she couldn't see it. "What?" she asked innocently. "I'm out for a gay old stroll with my darling, heroic, _well dressed_ Slytherin prefect boyfriend, yeah? I ought to be properly jealous and paranoid."

"Oh, sod off," he muttered.

"Tut, tut," Tristan said with shake of her shorn head. "That's not the proper way to talk to your devastating knock-out of a girlfriend, is it?"

"Did you say devastating or delusional?" But Tristan heard, to her astonishment, a traitorous quiver of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, don't smile!" she said, sounding horrified. "Slytherins don't show they're happy unless they need to trick, swindle, or dismember someone."

Hayden made a suspicious coughing noise and pulled Tristan a bit closer. She might have been alarmed, but the blurred shape of a street cart passed on her right and she realized he'd pulled her out of the way and onto the sidewalk. His arm slipped around her waist and she didn't fight it.

"Bloody eyes," she muttered, tentatively sliding her own arm around his middle.

"Feel free to take your specs back whenever you want," Hayden said, forcibly relaxing into her half-embrace. "They make me look like a girl."

"They don't," Tristan said immediately. "They're cute."

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, stumbling a little himself.

"I mean," Tristan backpedaled badly. "The lady in the shop told me they were cute. My specs."

Hayden's mouth was hanging open, Tristan was sure.

"Note to self," she muttered. "Inner monologue is to remain in head in future."

"Are you taken suddenly ill?" Hayden asked.

"It's the stress," Tristan sighed dramatically. "I'm cracking under the pressure."

Hayden said something that sounded an awful lot like, "Already cracked," but Tristan decided it was best to ignore him. As if she could, wound around him as she was. At least she wasn't crashing into things and tripping anymore, she thought distantly. Her side, pressed against his, was uncomfortably warm. So were her cheeks, though mercifully not touching him at all.

"Coming up on Flourish and Blotts," Hayden murmured.

They strolled quickly down the remaining length of sidewalk and pushed open the door of bookshop. Even in her advanced state of nerves, Tristan felt a sudden warmth in her chest as the smell of parchment, ink, and leather met her sensitive nose. "Love it here," she murmured to herself, letting go of Hayden immediately. She could find her way around this store stone blind.

"Good afternoon," came the soft voice of the proprietor, a man called Gibbs. "What can I get for you today?"

"Um – just looking," Hayden said hastily, before pulling Tristan behind the first available bookshelf. Seeing her questioning look, he said under his breath, "If our maniac parents _are _in disguise or have anyone on the lookout for us, the last thing we want to do is be noticeable. Or ask for Muggle tour books."

Tristan thought he was probably right, but didn't say so. "Er," she said. "Hayden, do you have any idea where Muggle books are kept in this place?"

"Nope," he said with a shrug. "We could split up and – "

"No!" she hissed, panicking. He did still have her glasses. "We're supposed to stay together! Anyway, suppose Dad or Uncle Draco came in and we were on opposite sides of the store?"

"Fine," he grumbled. "Where should we start?"

"Who's the one with the specs?" Tristan said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, I think we should check near Muggle Studies." She led the way over.

"Take these already." Hayden removed her glasses and handed them back. "No one will see us back here. Let's see. Muggle behavior, Muggle cooking, Muggle _plumbing_ – do you actually study that in class?" He'd never had Muggle Studies. Tristan had.

As no one else seemed to be around, she took her specs back. She sighed, relieved, as the store came into focus around her. She began scanning titles as soon as her eyes focused. _Traveling with Muggles: How Slow Can You Go?_ caught her eye_._ She'd only just opened to the table of contents when she was distractedby a funny squeaking noise. Turning, Tristan realized the sound must have come from Hayden, who was staring a hole through his own book, _A Guide to Everyday Muggle Vehicles_.

"Don't look now," he muttered so quietly that Tristan had to lean closer to hear, "but we're being watched."

Tristan immediately reached up to remove the glasses.

"Don't bother, he'll have noticed you wearing them already," Hayden hissed, batting her hand away.

Tristan quickly pasted her eyes on a picture opposite the table of contents, featuring a smiling family in a car. After a moment, she shook her head and under pretense of putting the book back on the shelf, cast a casual look through the shelves. For a moment, she couldn't find him. Then her eyes lit on a tall, dark man with bleach blonde hair. He wore Muggle sunglasses (unnatural for inside a shop, Tristan thought) and appeared to be skimming a shelf of Defense Against the Dark Arts books. But every so often, Tristan's sharpened eyes caught a subtle shift in the position of his head.

"Can he see _us_, do you think?" she asked Hayden, pulling _A Guide to Muggle Trains_ from the shelf.

"I've caught him squinting at you twice. By the way, here's a good one," Hayden said into his copy of _Muggle Transportation in England: Maps, Tour Guides, and What to Do If You Get Horribly, Horribly Lost._

"It doesn't look anything like Daddy," Tristan whispered. "And even if he were disguised, I'd be able to tell."

"I don't think it's our parents," Hayden told her quietly. "But they've got friends, haven't they? I can think of a couple of Aurors they could pull for this."

Tristan shivered. Without knowing if this bloke was just really curious or whether he was actually watching them, they couldn't walk up and buy a book on Muggle transportation without looking more suspicious than they already did. They needed to make him look away or, if he was a spy for their parents, convince him there was no way they were who he thought they were.

And unfortunately, there was only one way Tristan could think of doing that.

Swallowing, she slid her book back onto the shelf, throwing a last look at the stranger across the store. Thankfully, he hadn't moved much, but she was sure he was watching Hayden.

Tristan reached out a hand and let it come to rest lightly on the small of Hayden's back. When Hayden didn't look up from his book, Tristan slid her hand down and hitched in gently in the belt hidden under his Hogwarts robes. She was pleased to hear him hitch in a sharp breath and took the opportunity to step closer to him.

"What're you doing?" he hissed, though fortunately he didn't pull away.

"Play along," she said through her teeth. "We need this bloke to think . . . " She trailed off, turning enough so that her body pressed gently against his side.

"Think what?" Hayden's voice went husky. Tristan's stomach began to flutter. It swooped as she felt Hayden's arm slide around her waist, fingers skimming the bare skin between her shirt and trousers.

"That we're not us," Tristan breathed, finally looking up. Hayden's eyes were hooded. Tristan swallowed again. His eyes were really really grey.

That was her last thought before Hayden plucked her glasses from her nose, pocketed them, and lowered his lips to hers.

**)PvsM(**

"Bet they're snogging."

Harry's eyes were beginning to hurt from rolling them so often. "If I snogged _you_, would you shut up?" he ventured. "God, I must be tired," he said a second later, rubbing his forehead.

"Don't make hideous suggestions. I'm young and impressionable," Malfoy said, running a hand over his hair for the hundredth time. Harry was making it a point not to touch his at all.

"Young and impressionable as Cedric," he muttered, squinting and managing to weave through a bunch of owl cages hanging from the awning above their heads.

"Oh, sod off, you speccy bastard," Malfoy said. Harry saw him adjust the glasses (Harry's glasses, damn him) as they slid down his nose.

"You'rethe speccy bastard right now, Malfoy," Harry pointed out. He surprised them both a moment later by adding, "Bet you're right about them snogging, though. I'd hate to kill Hayden, but I may have to if he touches my daughter."

"Even if she's begging him to?" Malfoy said.

"She's very young," Harry shot back. "Also, _shut up_, I may have mentioned before."

Malfoy snorted and did another of his long scans of the street. Harry could tell every time the Slytherin did this because he'd pause under pretext of looking down at his prefect badge, and then look around as though hoping someone would notice.

Harry didn't bother looking around because he couldn't see worth a damn. He simply concentrated on looking as though he really didn't need glasses and on trying not to run anyone down.

They were fortunate. Their only responsibility was to wander Diagon Alley for a fifteen minutes, keeping Malfoy's eye out for any signs of Unspeakables or Red Robes, and then meet the others at the Charing Cross Road Underground station, just outside the Alley. Provided Tristan and Hayden were able to locate the correct Muggle maps and guidebooks in Flourish and Blotts, they'd be able to catch a bus to Reading, and then a train to Bath. From Bath, they would cut across the countryside to Wells, which was no more than two miles from Glastonbury.

Cedric insisted that they could do all this in the next two days. They'd have to split up again in Bath, staying at different hotels, but it would be nothing short of a miracle if they made it that far. They could worry logistics when they were out of London.

In the meantime, they were spread out all over Diagon Alley. Cedric and Blaise had the hardest job: to Gringotts, then to a mobile phone supplier in Charing Cross Road, then to the Underground. Ginny and Dorian were restocking medicinal herbs and sensible travel food that would last them once they were out in the country again.

Harry was just wondering if he shouldn't have traded glasses with Tristan (as he nearly collided with what appeared to be a bucket of eels outside an apothecary) when the hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle. It was a feeling he'd come to recognize and learned never to ignore.

"Malfoy," he said quietly, pulling up beside the dark shape of the Slytherin and lowering his voice. "I think we're being followed."

"What are you talking about?" Malfoy demanded, his shoulders tense. "You can't see, Potter. How would you know – ?"

"Keep your voice down!" Harry murmured. "I just know we're being watched. Call it a hunch. I'll buy you a Firebolt 500 if I'm wrong."

"Merlin!" Malfoy muttered. "All right, Pothead. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to stop in front of Quality Quidditch and pretend to be desperately interested in whatever broom is in the front window," Harry mumbled.

"We're nearly there now," Malfoy said softly. "Try not to fall over, Potter."

Harry could see the vague shapes of brooms and Quidditch equipment in the window when Malfoy drew level.

"Okay," Harry said quietly. "Can you see anyone reflected in the glass?"

"Yeah," Malfoy said as they stood staring at the broom. "Just a few people, though. No one suspicious looking."

"Fine. Let's get inside the shop, seeing if anyone follows us."

Malfoy, who didn't seem inclined to argue at this point, led the way through the front door and into the crowded interior. He wandered into the shop, nodding at things as they passed and pausing at a large display of brooms.

"There's the new Nimbus," the Slytherin said loudly in passing, leading Harry over to examine it. The two made a ritual of looking at the broom from every angle, until they'd worked their way behind it so Malfoy could throw an occasional, casual look around the shop.

"Well?" Harry asked presently as they stepped back to admire the broom from a few feet away.

"You were right," Malfoy conceded in a casual tone. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, "I couldn't place the bloke's face. I'm sure it's no one we know, if you follow me, but he's way too interested in that set of engraved Bludgers in the display case."

Harry reached out and ran a hand appreciatively over the broom tail, simultaneously flicking his eyes around again. Although unable to focus, he felt a jolt as his eyes passed the display cases near the door. A man in a dark cloak was standing at just such an angle that Harry was sure he was watching their reflections in the glass.

"Damn, I think you're right," he muttered, looking quickly back to the broom and reaching out to examine the price tag. "We've got to loose him."

"How?" Malfoy growled in a low voice. "Whoever the Unspeakables pulled for this will be the quiet, trustworthy, family friend sorts. They're are going to be Aurors, at the very least."

"Then there's only one way out of this that I can see," Harry said, turning to look at what he could just identify as blurry elbow pads.

"Which is . . . ?" Malfoy prompted impatiently, hefting one in his hand.

"They're only going to know us by physical appearance," Harry murmured, rummaging through the mouth guards and hoping he didn't knock anything over.

"If he's watching us, he already knows who we are," Malfoy hissed. Harry was reminded of the tone Malfoy had used in their first year when he'd been told they'd serve detention in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid.

"No, he doesn't," Harry countered. "He'd have made a move by now. He suspects us is all. So all we've got to do is convince him there's no way we are who he thinks we are."

"This will end in tears and imprisonment," Malfoy said darkly, but he apparently didn't have any better ideas so he followed Harry back toward the front of the store.

"Of course, Muggle hang gliders are the worst," Harry said loudly when he thought he was within earshot of the man. He hoped he was properly imitating Malfoy's drawl. "I lost my last Snitch a few weeks ago when it got caught in a glider's wing. Stupid Muggle thought it was a faery or some rubbish and pocketed it. Couldn't do a bloody thing without the Ministry fining me for using magic, so I let it go. Think I'll bully father into getting me one of these." He indicated what he hoped was the fanciest Snitch in the display case.

"You don't want one of those," Malfoy said, cottoning on and dropping his voice into an impersonation of Harry that was a bit uncanny. "The wings are worthless if you bend them at all. Anyway, why have gold when you could have platinum?" Harry looked up and saw one of Malfoy's long fingers pointing at a silvery blur in the far right corner of the case.

"Match my hair, don't you reckon?" Harry said with a laugh he hoped sounded natural. His palms were starting to sweat. "Anyway, there's a reason International Sides still play with a gold Snitch. Tradition, isn't it? And if I want a spot with Puddlemere next year, I need to keep to what they use."

"Like Puddlemere would sign you, Greg," Malfoy said brightly, with a false little laugh. Harry bit back a scowl – _Greg_?

They were level with the bloke now, Harry could tell. Time to call his bluff.

"What do you reckon?" Harry asked him, turning to face him head-on and throwing caution to the winds. "Should they stick with a tradition gold or go for the platinum? Personally, I dunno how teams as bad as some of them are could afford it."

It took the man a couple of seconds to realize that Harry was speaking to him. When he did, Harry had to give him credit for answering casually, as though he were really thinking it over. "I don't know," he said. "The Platinum Snitch just doesn't have the same ring to it as the Golden Snitch, does it?"

Malfoy snorted, but Harry said, "Too right. What did I tell you, Fred?"

Malfoy choked. "Still like the platinum," he mumbled in his Harry voice.

"I'd think," the bloke went on, "it would be harder to see as well; the grey-ish color, rather than gold."

"Point," Harry returned, focusing on the case again and trying to sound bored. "Still, I could use a challenge. It gets old winning every match." Beside him, Malfoy coughed pointedly.

"Play Quidditch, do you?" the man asked, and Harry could hear the smile in his voice.

"Who doesn't?" Harry shrugged. "My friend here plays as well. Keeper. He's not too bad."

"Oy," Malfoy said. "Watch yourself, Greg, or you'll find out what that I'm also good with a bat."

They were putting on a tolerable show, butHarry didn't really want to push their luck.

"Is that the time?" he muttered, glancing at his wrist-watch. "Come on, Fred, we'll be late meeting your mum for your robe fitting."

"Wouldn't want that," Malfoy said, grabbing Harry by the scruff of the neck and dragging him out of the shop.

"_Fred_?" the Slytherin growled the second they were back on the sidewalk. "Thanks for nothing, Pothead."

Harry sniggered. "Greg's not my favorite, either, you know. Think he fell for it?"

"Bloody well hope so. We've got ten minutes to get to Muggle London."

"Lead the way. Fred."

"Oh, sod off, Greg."

**)PvsM(**

"And how many people did you say you wanted on this family plan, sir?"

The Muggle salesman looked irritable, but Cedric cared about as much as he cared if his father dropped off the face of the planet – which was to say, not much.

"Eight," he said again, glaring at the man. "And you know, we can afford it, mate."

His mum, standing close beside him, gave him a warning look.

He'd known this young version of his mum a very short time, but Cedric still felt as though he knew her on some fundamental level that defied separation and time. He knew what she was thinking (that the salesman could use a good hexing) and knew that she knew he felt the same. One of the many things mother and son shared was an ability to relieve aggression through verbal antagonism. Cedric still remembered words his mum had had with obnoxious salespeople when he was a boy.

"Certainly, sir," the clerk said. "My apologies."

Blaise nudged Cedric and he sighed. "Like I said, we're in a bit of a rush," he told the salesman. "We want small, inconspicuous, and the very best reception. Whatever you've got, we'll take."

"I do have just the thing, sir," the salesman said, and he vanished into the back.

"Stupid twat," Cedric muttered under his breath, pulling away from his mum and going to the window. Muggles rushed passed on the street outside. Fortunately, the small mobile phone shop wasn't busy today.

"Easy, Cedric," Blaise said, joining him and resting a hand on his shoulder. It amazed Cedric that this seventeen-year-old girl still exerted a kind of maternal authority over him. His shoulders relaxed a little and he suddenly felt tired. God, he'd missed his mum!

"We've got time," Blaise said softly. "Ten minutes until we meet at the station and it's just across the street. I'd be more worried about Potter and Draco, actually."

"What about Tris and Hayden?" Cedric asked, a little less tired when he thought of his sister. "I wouldn't be surprised if they caused a street brawl."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they were snogging behind a bookcase," Blaise muttered. "I think Weasley and Dorian are the most likely to make it out without burning the Alley down."

"If Ian doesn't knock anything over or get lured into a dark passage by beautiful women," Cedric pointed out, his eyes raking the street for anyone who looked like they might be watching the shop. For now, he didn't see anyone, but that could change fast.

"Too right." Blaise sighed. "To be honest, it's sounding a lot nicer every day to just turn ourselves over and try to reason with the Unspeakables. Draco and Weasley seem a decent lot in the future."

"You'd never get Dad to calm down enough for Uncle Draco to reason with him," Cedric countered, his lip curling. "He'd probably have me locked away and he'd keep you lot confined to a single room with no windows. And Tris – " He paused, his fist clenching at the thought of any harm coming to his little sister.

"Potter wouldn't hurt Tristan," Blaise said, her voice soft on Cedric's sister's name.

"You don't know – " Cedric broke off, his temper rising. Mother or not, this younger version Cedric's mum had no idea what his father was capable of when he flew into a rage. The man was unreasonable at the best of times but in Harry's dark furies, Cedric feared in the deepest way for Tristan.

"I don't know the Harry Potter you know but I know the one from my time," Blaise said, her voice a soothing current through Cedric's anger. "Whatever made him turn you out, and however much it hurt," she gave his shoulder a squeeze, "I refuse to believe he'd do anything to harm our daughter."

Cedric hadn't ever seen Harry hurt Tristan, admittedly. But the fear was there, a constant hum in the back of his mind. It only took one loss of control.

The salesman returned, clearing his throat. Cedric turned back to deal with him, leaving Blaise by the window to keep an eye on the street.

Activating the phones, learning their most basic functions from the clerk, and paying for it all took another five minutes.

"We're right on time," Blaise murmured as they left the shop.

"And provided we aren't being tailed, we might actually make it out of London," Cedric returned quietly.

**)PvsM(**

"Aunt Gin, was it mad to let Tris and Hayden go off alone?" Dorian asked over his coffee.

"I think so, but then, I'm not really the mastermind, am I?" Ginny asked helplessly.

Glancing around the little Muggle cafe, looking for signs of trouble, she had to admit that they seemed to her like the luckiest pair. They had collected their supplies in Diagon Alley in less than ten minutes, and then decided they'd be less conspicuous if they waited at a cafe next to the station entrance.

"I mean," Dorian went on, "we all know it's just sexual tension, but they're both daft. I live in fear of finding them in a cupboard devouring each other someday when it gets too much for them."

Ginny grinned a little, knowing that it really wasn't so far-fetched. She stopped grinning when she realized the same could be said of her and someone else she didn't like to think too hard about.

"They're like you and Uncle Draco, you know," Dorian said. He had, Ginny was beginning to realize, inherited his mother's instinctive insight and his father's total inability to keep anything to himself. "I'll never forget how you two got together," he added.

"What?" He had Ginny's full attention. "I mean, how?"

"We've all heard the story so many times," Dorian said, grinning his cheeky grin. "You were alone at the Burrow while everyone else took off for the final battle. Gran and Granddad thought it was the safest place for you."

"What, I sat at home through the final battle?" Ginny demanded indignantly. Like hell!

"Oh, no," Dorian said, looking amazed. "You, stay at home? It was just that you still had the Trace and you were underage. Apparently, Uncle Bill laid it on thick that you'd be a huge danger to everyone and by staying at home, you were keeping everyone else safe."

"Oh, of course," Ginny murmured faintly. "Wait, I fell for that rubbish?" What the hell kind of idiot kid had she been in this universe?

"Only for as long as it took everyone to Apparate to Hogwarts, where the final battle happened," Dorian assured her. "But you couldn't find them right away so you were sort of Apparating all over the place, looking for everyone. Then you remembered Great Uncle Malfoy had that mansion full of dangerous magical objects that Granddad and the Ministry where always raiding. You thought maybe the battle might be there so you went straight there and ran into the master of the house."

"Oh, no."

"Exactly." Dorian nodded vigorously. "I mean, it wasn't like you weren't a good duelist or anything but he was a Death Eater."

"What happened?" Ginny demanded.

"Well, he had you pinned down after about five minutes," Dorian went on, rubbing his hands together. "Disarmed, backed up against a suit of armor, when Uncle Draco burst through the door."

"He knew I was there?"

"He'd gone back to the Burrow just before going to Hogwarts himself," Dorian explained. "When he couldn't find you, he did the activation spell for your Trace and came after you. He had Great Uncle Malfoy away from you faster than you can blink. The way Aunt Gin – I mean, the way you tell it, he was spitting mad."

Ginny's hands were cupped over her mouth. "What happened?"

"Uncle Draco forced him back onto a balcony," Dorian explained. "Great Uncle Malfoy must have been desperate because he fired off Cruciatus. But Uncle Draco got down just in time, the spell rebounded, and it hit Great Uncle Malfoy. He was right next to the balcony railing and he – he fell off. Broke his neck."

Ginny swallowed. "What happened then?"

"Oh, Uncle Draco was in a spitting fury and got shouty at you for leaving the Burrow," Dorian said, shrugging. "I guess you were pretty brassed off at being left behind and you had a tremendous row and then snogged a lot."

Ginny blinked. "I'm sorry. We rowed and then we snogged? That's the story?"

Dorian chuckled. "Well, yeah. Uncle Draco didn't want you anywhere near the battle because he was mad for you. And you wanted to go because you wanted to protect your family and Uncle Draco because you were mad for _him_. It makes perfect sense, really." Dorian grinned his cheeky grin. "Uncle Sirius reckons you were shagging, actually,

but – "

Ginny squealed and slapped him upside the head. "And that'll be quite enough of that, young man!"

Dorian rubbed his head as he glanced at his watch.

"Time to go," he said. He glanced balefully at her. "You're just like Aunt Gin."

Ginny ruffled his hair as they left the cafe. "I know, dear."

**)PvsM(**

"Look, there's Gin and her twat nephew," Draco mumbled to Potter. They were leaning casually against a pillar in the Underground station, Muggle newspapers open. The station was crowded enough to provide good cover for them and at least they weren't in their robes and prefect badges anymore, having stuffed them in a bin just inside Diagon Alley before leaving.

"Left or right?" Potter asked, not even looking up from the _London Times_. He still didn't have his specs.

"Right, twenty meters down," Draco muttered, turning a page.

"That would put them level with the next entrance," Harry said, nodding. "Perfect. Any sign of our stalker from Diagon Alley?"

"I haven't seen him, but there's no guarantee he won't show up here," Draco said, flipping another page.

"Also no guarantee the others won't be followed," Potter said darkly.

Draco glanced up again. The train thing currently occupying the tracks in front of them was pulling out with a dreadful squeal of metal on metal. He shifted, trying not to feel nervous. They needed to be on the next train out to stick with Cedric Potter's timetable and there were still no sighs of anyone except Ginny and her nephew, who sat on a bench together some way down the tracks, sharing a bag of crisps.

"Ah, our fearless leader's just arrived," Draco said suddenly, turning his relief into contempt as best he could. "Looks as though he and Blaise found the ruddy felly-tone things you lot wanted."

Potter made a choking noise and when Draco looked at him, his lip twitched.

"What?" Draco snapped, trying to keep his voice down. "Shut up!"

"_Felly-tones_?" the Gryffindor said, now sniggering into his paper. "Try some Muggle Studies sometime, Malfoy."

"Sod right off, wanker," Draco snarled, watching Blaise and Cedric Potter walk by and stand a ways off down the platform, Blaise's arm laced through Little Potter's.

That just left the kids. Damn.

"Suppose they've been captured?" Potter muttered, unkindly voicing Draco's fear aloud.

"If they have, it's probably more of a help than anything," the Slytherin retorted. "Right nuisance, the pair of them." He chewed his lip and tried to read his paper.

"I cannot believe you," Potter growled.

"Look, they get caught, they go back to their parents, safe and sound," Draco pointed out.

"What about Red Robes?"

"Now their parents know about it, they'll be able to protect them," Draco said, not really convincing himself but plowing on anyway. "They're Unspeakables, Potter, they know what they're about."

"Point," Potter surprised him by admitting. "It's them I'm worried about," he added a moment later. "They're the ones who took off to go back in time, right under their families' noses. What's to stop them doing it again? I feel better keeping them with us."

It was Draco's turn to admit that Potter had a point. Hayden and Tristan seemed like the sort that went looking for trouble; a backslide from their parents, who at least held still and waited for the trouble to find them. He opened his mouth, but a faint noise in the tunnel made him stop and listen.

"Our train," Potter said, his eyes wide. "Damn it, what now?"

Draco threw a look down the platform. Ginny met his eyes for a brief moment and shook her head before looking quickly away. Draco turned to look at Blaise. She shook hers, too, but Cedric, without looking at him, tapped his wrist.

"Ced told me there's only one train out of Reading today," Potter murmured. "If we miss it, we don't go to Bath tonight."

"Reading's not big enough to hide us, though, Little Potter said that," Draco said quietly. The lights of the train played around the room as it slowly pulled into the station. "Potter, they're looking to us to make a choice," he added, noticing the other pairs glancing at them down the platform.

Potter's lip twitched as he slowly folded his newspaper. "Come on," he muttered. "Let's at least look like we're heading for the train. Be a bother if someone noticed us missing a bunch of trains and just sitting here."

The train stopped and the doors slid open. Draco saw the other pairs straggling into line, too. Draco and Potter were just at open door of one of the cars when Draco glanced back at the stairs.

"Potter, they're coming!" he hissed.

"Are they going to make the train?" he demanded.

"They'd better," Draco bit out. "Otherwise, they're going to get caught by the man in the trench coat five meters behind them."

Tristan and Hayden were flying down the stairs and long to corridor toward the train, a man just behind them. They were weaving in and out of the people leaving the train station, just ahead of their tail, who was moving too fast for Draco's taste.

"Are they going to make the train, Malfoy?" Potter demanded. "Make the call – if their tail catches up and we're not on the train – "

The bloke would get all of them, not just the kids. Damn.

"We have to risk it," he said. "We have to get to bleeding Avalon."

Potter stepped immediately onto the train, pulling Draco with him. Draco saw the others step through doors further down the car and held his breath. He stuck his head out once, on the off-chance Tristan or Hayden could see him and saw Blaise do the same.

Draco had to yank his head back as the doors began to close. His stomach tightened.

"Where are they?" Potter demanded as the doors closed. "Malfoy, did they make it?"

Draco craned his neck. The long car was crowded and for a moment, he couldn't even see Blaise or Ginny. He shoved his way back to the window as the car pulled out. He saw the man in the trench coat standing on the platform and watching the train pull out of the station.

"Miss me, Daddy?"

Harry Potter let out a muffled sigh of relief as his daughter wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder.

"All right, Dad?" Hayden asked, popping up next to Draco and trying to catch his breath. Draco could see the others now. Ginny's eyes were over-bright as she smiled at him down the car. Blaise's lip gave a tremble, though she didn't move toward Tristan. Cedric Potter blew out a long breath and spared his sister a glare.

"Don't ever do that to me again, boy," Draco muttered.

Hayden grinned, nudging Draco's shoulder. "I'm such a troublemaker."

**)PvsM(**

_TBC_


	11. In Which They Reach Bath

**A/N**: Another chapter edited and reworked. I feel so good after these edits, however hard they are at the time! Everything feels tighter and more in-character. Hope you all enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** We solemnly swear we are up to no good …(of course it's not ours!)

**)PvsM(**

Though neither Harry nor Malfoy were willing to let the kids more than a foot away from them for the rest of the journey, the others stayed separate from them until they'd gone from the underground to a Reading-bound bus and finally, onto a train to Bath at half-three. Harry risked putting his glasses back on but saw no indication that they'd been followed. It was nothing short of a miracle.

They finally reconvened on the train, managing to find a car with eight free seats. Once they'd checked their car and the two in front and behind for anyone suspicious, they really began to relax.

"Can we get a curry in Bath?" Tristan asked plaintively of no one in particular. She rubbed her stomach. "I haven't had a thing to eat since yesterday."

Ginny leaned over the seat and handed her some dried meat, a bottle of water, and a little packet of peanuts. Everyone else looked beadily at her and Dorian, who rolled their eyes and began handing around food.

"Sorry, Tris, we'll have to split up as soon as we get there," Cedric told her around a mouthful of dried apple slices. "Bath's got some excellent pubs, though. However we split up, we'll make sure everyone gets to eat. Here, this ought to take your mind off things." Reaching with his free hand into one of the large bags he carried, he withdrew one of the boxes and, after much unwrapping of plastic and cardboard, removed a silver mobile phone. Tristan's eyes lit with interest.

Hayden, sitting across the aisle, muttered something about Tristan and shiny objects. Ginny said something stern and dusted crumbs off his front. "_Mum_," he said.

"Hand mine over, Ced," Harry said, leaning over the back of Cedric's seat and taking the box his son offered him.

"Oh, goody, Muggle gadgets," Malfoy muttered, glaring out the window. He looked a little worse for wear after the bus and the train obviously wasn't an improvement for him.

"What are these for?" Ginny asked, unwrapping the plastic and holding the mobile between two fingers.

"It's obviously something pretty for your hair, Weasley."

"Shut up, Malfoy, I didn't see you taking Muggle Studies."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Get used to it," Blaise advised from the seat beside him, glancing across the aisle at Draco. "He doesn't look well and he gets in a foul strop when he's sick."

"That and the fact he's talking to Ginny," Harry muttered. He leaned closer to Blaise so the sound of the train would cover his voice. "I mean, I'm no hit with girls but even I can tell that Malfoy's mucking everything up. If Ginny doesn't kill him before we get back, ten Galleons says she arranges for one of her brothers to off him."

"Draco doesn't recognize he's train-wrecked until he's crawling out of the wreckage," Blaise said philosophically. "Twenty Galleons says he flees to France."

"At least Ginny's interested," Harry pointed out. "Anything could happen between here and Dumbledore." He grinned. "Like Malfoy fleeing to France."

Blaise grinned back at him, her purple eyes full of mischief.

"Yes," she said slowly. "Or they could meet with an untimely love potion . . . "

"You're such a Slytherin," Harry told her. She leaned into his arm and began unwrapping the mobile Cedric handed her over the seat.

"Potter, your flirting is making me sicker than I already am," Malfoy snapped, peeling his pallid face off the window long enough to send Harry a sneer.

"He's doing a right side better than you are," Tristan pointed out. Dorian giggled into his snack.

The others bit back smiles because laughing at the unwell was wrong and they had to set a good example for the children. Malfoy slouched into silence with his arms crossed over his chest. Ginny patted his arm.

"So," Blaise said, pushing herself away from Harry's shoulder and apprehensively picking up the mobile from the box in her lap. "What's this _phony-tone_ thing for?"

**)PvsM(**

The train ride was long enough for everyone to take turns napping, which was just as well. Cedric didn't like to think of any of them falling asleep in a pub.

He could tell they were getting a handle on mobile phones when Dorian discovered text messaging. His first victim was, to no one's surprise, Tristan.

"Ced, I think something's wrong with my phone," she said, staring down at the little screen and wrinkling her nose. "Ought it to say that?"

"Say what?" he asked absently.

"That," she said, indicating the flashing message on the view screen of her mobile.

Cedric glanced at it briefly, did a double-take, and snatched it from her. After punching a few buttons, while his sister leaned curiously over his arm, he scowled.

"Ian . . . " he said, turning to look at his cousin.

"What?" Dorian sank down in his seat and grinned sheepishly.

"Invite my sister to do anything like that again, and you can be sure that I'll not let you live through the night. Got me?"

Dorian winked at Tristan, who rolled her eyes and took her phone back from her brother.

"Ced, ignore him," she advised. "Look," she added triumphantly a moment later. "I've found 'erase'."

"Honestly, Ian," Ginny muttered. "If her dad doesn't kill you, her brother will." She sighed. "You clearly get your sense of self-preservation from your father."

"Funny, Mum thinks that, too, Aunt Gin," Dorian said, sounding a little wicked.

"It's a wonder he's still alive," Hayden said under his breath.

Cedric glared at him.

"What? What did I do? I'm just sitting here!" Hayden said, leaning away from him and looking mightily guilty for someone who hadn't done anything. Given the way Tristan kept looking at him and turning red, Cedric had a fairly good idea that he had done something, what he'd done, and how dead he was if Cedric ever found out for sure he was right.

"Stop, Ced, he's not worth it," Tristan said testily, stabbing at the buttons on her phone. "What's your – um, number, is it? Phone number," she added experimentally, glancing up from her instruction manual. "I've found the address book."

Cedric knew something had happened when Hayden didn't snap at Tristan for calling him not worth Cedric's anger.

"Cedric." Blaise leaned over the back of her seat and looked him in the eye. "Stop growling at the boys and let Tristan bloody well look after herself. She can, you know."

"_Thank_ you," Tristan said with a pointed look at Cedric. "Mum," she added, biting her lip and looking shyly up at the other girl.

"Help me with my Muggle gadget thing, kid," Blaise said imperiously but with a little smile when Tristan called her 'mum'. She shot a smile at Draco, who was still glaring out at the countryside and looking green. "I, too, found Muggle Studies beneath me."

Tristan giggled, leaning forward to show her phone to her mother. Cedric liked watching them together. Tristan had always resented their mum, listening to their dad go on and on about how horrible she was. It made Cedric's blood boil and a tiny voice in his head constantly reminded him there was no way Tristan would learn to appreciate and value her mum the way Cedric did. Maybe it was a good thing all this time travel business was happening. Maybe now Tristan would stand a chance of reconnecting with her adult mother when Cedric managed to find her.

He felt a hand in his hair and looked up. Tristan smiled. "Cheer up, big brother," she said. "Mum knows best, doesn't she?"

"Except about 'phony tones,'" Harry pointed out. "Ow!"

"Malfoy," Ginny was saying as she poked curiously at her phone. "Do you want some help with your … um …"

"Mobile?" Dorian offered helpfully.

"That's it," Ginny said.

"I'm never touching the bloody thing so no point, really," Draco muttered. He was going from green to grey and looking for all the world like he wanted to pass out and never wake up. Cedric remembered him looking about the same when he'd caught dragon pox from Tristan and Hayden.

"You look dreadful," Ginny said, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Ced, did you see a loo on the way in?"

"I'm not that dreadful, thank you," Draco snapped. No one was fooled.

"I'm just going to get a cold cloth for your forehead, you big baby," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "And if you need a bucket," she added wickedly as she slid from her seat, "you'd better tell me now because I won't be able to conjure one."

**)PvsM(**

Muggle trains had to be the worst invention of the lot, Draco decided. According to Cedric, they were within ten minute of Bath, but that didn't stop Draco wishing he were dead. He and his stomach were at war over whether to be violently ill all over the place or not. He was afraid he was losing the battle and Ginny was sitting next to him. He swallowed and ordered his stomach to settle.

"An angry camel would be better than this," he mumbled, staring hard out of the window and trying to swallow the sour taste in his throat.

"We're almost there," Ginny said quietly, pressing a cold cloth to his forehead. It did feel nice so he leaned back into his seat and let her. "You wouldn't want a camel, anyway," she added. He could hear her smiling, even with his eyes squeezed shut. "They spit. My brother Bill says they have good aim, too."

"Which one's Bill?" he asked, because her voice took his mind off the lurching of the horrible Muggle train.

"Bill lives in Egypt," she told him, sliding the cold cloth across the back of his neck and letting it rest there. "He's a curse breaker. His wife wants him to retire and be a proper exec at Gringotts but he never will."

"Why?" _Keep talking, just keep talking_.

"He'd get bored hanging around England all the time," Ginny explained. If she were surprised by his sudden interest in her family, she wasn't showing it. "He's been home a lot more since he and Fleur got married and the war got bad but he won't stay. He wants to move to Cairo but Mum couldn't bear having two sons living overseas." She glanced at him and Draco, who didn't like to risk opening his mouth, raised his eyebrows. "Charlie," she explained. "My next oldest brother after Bill. He works with dragons in Romania. Mum went spare when he said he was moving. Bill doesn't want to upset her but he and Fleur hate being apart, so …"

"Uncle Charlie is my favorite," Dorian said as he fiddled with his phone. "He took me up on a dragon when I was eight. It was bloody brilliant. Course, Mum tried to kill him."

"Funny," Hayden said, slanting a look at Ginny. "The same thing happened to me when I was nine."

"Too right," Ginny said, winking at him.

"You'd let me go now, though, wouldn't you?" he asked, batting his eyes at her. Draco turned his head enough to catch the movement and realized how similar his eyes were to his son's.

"Absolutely not, young man!" Ginny said in shocked tones. "Oh," she added with a smirk, "and you're grounded."

Tristan and Dorian giggled. "Denny's in the cupboard, Denny's in the cupboard," they chanted.

"What?" Potter glanced up from his felly-tone and stared at his daughter.

"Shut up, Potter," Hayden muttered. "Shut up, Ian," he added, smacking Dorian over the head.

"Abuse!" Dorian wailed.

"You okay?" Ginny asked, her attention suddenly on Draco while the three kids bickered in the background. "You're looking really peaky."

"I'm pale," he retorted. "Looking peaky is something that comes naturally."

She gave a surprised chuckle. "My mum's going to love having you as a son-in-law."

"Please don't talk like that, I'm already ill," Draco muttered.

Ginny shook her head at him, running long fingers through her short mess of hair, which was returning to its original red. "If you weren't already ill, I'd slap you, Malfoy."

"You and Hermione," Potter said, smirking across the aisle at Draco.

"Sod off," Draco said, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning back in his seat.

"Harry, just this once, I'm going to ask you to leave Malfoy alone," Ginny surprised everyone by saying. "It's beneath you to pick on the weak."

"Oy," Draco tried but quickly clamped his lips shut.

"Do yourself a favor and stop talking, Draco."

His eyes snapped open and he stared at her.

"Close your eyes," she said softly.

He didn't want to but it was better for his stomach if he did. He felt her pull the cloth from his neck and heard her leave the compartment. A minute later, the door opened and closed and the cloth, cool and soothing again, settled against his neck. Then he felt fingers on his cheeks and neck, ghosting over his forehead and across his nose.

"Try to get some rest," Ginny whispered. "Sleep now."

And somehow, he did.

**)PvsM(**

Harry was just making last-minute reservations at the bed and breakfast in Bath when Tristan said, "Oh, thank god we're here!"

Harry finished his phone call and looked out the window. He recognized some of the taller buildings from his brief holiday with the Dursleys when he was nine and they couldn't find anywhere to leave him for the week. He frowned. Dudley had not made it a pleasant holiday and now he was on the run from murderers and law enforcement.

He did not like Bath.

"What's wrong, Potter?" Blaise was giving him a funny look.

"Last time I was here, my cousin chased me into a ruin of a church and then locked me out of the hotel we were staying at," Harry said shortly.

Blaise opened her mouth, closed it, and then settled for frowning out the window.

The train pulled slowly into the station. They collected their rucksacks and Malfoy, who looked like he might actually pass out, and stepped out onto the small platform. Harry glanced around. A sign reading 'Welcome to Bath' hung near another sign reading 'Way Out.'

"That's exactly what we need," Dorian said fervently. Tristan grinned, patted his shoulder, and leapt away so he couldn't cop a feel. He gave her the look of a man who could wait but not for long. She slugged his shoulder, he whined piteously to Ginny, and Ginny ordered him to help her with poor "Uncle Draco." Poor Uncle Draco said something very unpleasant to her.

"It's a wonder if we make it out of the station without getting caught," Cedric muttered. "Aunt Gin, Ian, can you manage with Malfoy to the nearest hostel? It's right up the high street and I think you need a kip faster than any of the rest of us."

"No problem, Ced." The three split off and headed up the street, the redheads waving back at the rest of the group.

"Keep your phones on," Cedric called after them.

Ginny gave him a wavering thumbs-up over her shoulder.

"You sent Dad off first to be rid of him, didn't you?" Hayden asked, half-accusing and half-amused.

"Might have done," Cedric admitted. "Anyway, I'm taking you and Tris with me. Can't trust the pair of you, can I?"

"Oy," the pair of them said, glaring at him.

"Fine with me," Blaise said, winking at Harry. He felt himself go a bit red and Tristan actually grinned at him.

"Leave it out, Mum, that's gross," Harry's daughter said, smirking at Blaise.

"Go on, I'm your age," Blaise retorted.

They split up, Harry and Blaise heading uphill toward Queen Victoria Park and the others heading for the center of town.

"Think we'll be all right?" Blaise asked, shrugging her rucksack higher on her shoulders.

"Oh, sure. If Dorian's texting stops and Cedric isn't forced to strangle him or Hayden to protect Tristan's virtue," Harry said, smiling in spite of himself.

Blaise frowned, throwing a quick look over her shoulder. "I wish she could've come with us," she admitted, kicking at loose cobblestones as the street began to ascend.

"Me, too," Harry told her. "But you two look and act too much alike."

"She and Ced do, too," Blaise said grouchily. "Anyone would know they're related."

"That's why she's better off with her brother," Harry said patiently, as they turned down Manvers Street. "Siblings backpacking together is totally normal in the Muggle world. It's not something that would make someone look twice in a crowd. What if Tris accidentally called you 'Mum' in front of someone?"

"I guess," Blaise muttered, stuffing her hands into her pockets as they passed through the town square, sandwiched between the Roman Baths, the Pump Room, Bath Abbey, and about twenty souvenir shops.

"Got to hand it to British Muggles, though," she said, lip curling. "They _do_ know how to make the tackiest buildings you'll ever see _anywhere_."

They turned onto the high street again. As they continued to climb upward, the stores began to run more toward books and music, with a couple of touristy museums and a church thrown in.

"Any idea where we are?" Blaise asked, gazing around as they came to the end of street and were faced with several confusing cross streets. Harry glanced at her. She looked especially irritable which meant she was probably nervous. Great – that made two of them.

"We're looking for the Royal Crescent," Harry told her. He remembered the directions from the guidebook and a lot from when he'd visited with the Dursleys. His eyes lingered on a signpost that had several points of interest on it in arrow-shaped blocks pointing in various directions. "Right," he said. "We want to take a left, I think."

"I have absolute confidence in your navigational skills," Blaise said, looking apprehensively around.

"Oh, clearly." Harry threw her a half smile which she returned.

"Sorry," she said, eyes on the street ahead of them. "I'm just …"

"Worried because a madman's on our trail and we're alone in a large city in the wrong time period?" Harry offered.

Blaise chuckled, nudging him a little. "Worried is not a strong enough word, Potter."

After another ten minutes and a near run-in with a passing Tesco-bound lorry, they reached the Royal Crescent. A semicircle of old, handsome buildings that stood across the cobblestone street from a sloping lawn came into view as they mounted the last stretch of the long road. The weather wasn't bad and Muggles were picnicking and playing Frisbee all over the field. "This must be Queen Victoria Memorial Park," Harry said, staring around. "Part of it, anyway. We're supposed to cross this lawn to get to Marlborough Street."

For a wonder, Marlborough Street was where Harry remembered it being on the map. He realized as they made their way down it that it led to the hotel he'd stayed at with the Dursleys. He winced.

"What?" Blaise asked, eyeing him sharply.

"Just – unpleasant memories."

"Your family."

He glanced at her and caught her turning to look ahead again. "Not my real family," he corrected. "But – I have to live with them for a while longer."

"This summer – if we get out of here, mind – will you have to go back?"

Harry could see her chewing her lip.

"Dunno. I thought so before but – " Harry broke off. He liked this girl. Maybe more than he'd ever liked a girl, but … it was the Order. It was too important to be careless about. "Depends on – on a lot of things," he finished lamely.

Blaise frowned at him. "You're not good at sneaky, Potter," she said at last, hefting her rucksack higher on her shoulders. "Just know that."

Marlborough Street led down a hill that was lined on the left with old, stone houses and on the right by an old-fashioned farmhouse. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the sloping lawns and enclosed gardens of Queen Victoria Memorial Park.

"Quaint," Blaise muttered. Harry couldn't stop a grin.

The bed and breakfast on Marlborough Street was a tall, narrow establishment, with a pretty front garden and a cobblestone path leading to the front door. Harry led the way through the hip-high rot-iron gate and up the path to the door, where he pressed the buzzer. He caught Blaise staring doubtfully at it and tried not to smile too much.

"Shut up, Potter," she said, nudging him.

A tall man answered the door a moment later with a smile and an Australian accent.

"Can I help?" the Muggle asked.

"Yeah, I booked this afternoon," Harry said. "One night."

"Ah, the Evans," the man said, nodding. "Welcome. I'm Kenneth Shears. Won't you come in?"

_The Evans_? Blaise mouthed at him as Mr. Shears led them down a narrow hallway into a sitting room with antique furniture that smelled like a museum. A door straight ahead led to a handsome set of winding stairs. A homely dining room was visible through a door on the right. It seemed to be set for supper.

"I wasn't going to use our names, was I?" Harry retorted. "And it was easier to pretend we were married. Or rather – " He paused, feeling himself go red – "honeymooners."

"Don't Muggles wear wedding rings, too, Potter?" But Blaise tucked her left hand into her pocket and stopped teasing.

"We've cleared the top apartment for you, Mr. Evans," Mr. Shears said, nodding toward the stairs. "It's a good thing your call came when it did – this is a busy season for us."

"That's fine," Harry said quickly. Blaise smirked at him and he felt himself go a touch redder. Charming.

"Right, then." Mr. Shears beamed at them. "Helen's just finishing supper for us – shouldn't be ten minutes. You're welcome to join, of course. Meantime, I expect you'd like to freshen up. Head all the way up the stairs. Your room's on the left and the toilet's attached. Here's your key."

"Thanks," Harry said, taking it and tugging Blaise toward the stairs. Mr. Shears seemed nice enough but in a town like Bath, where innkeepers talked to innkeepers and cleaning staff ran gossip black markets, Harry didn't like to think how much attention they could bring upon themselves if the Aurors and Unspeakables did their investigating properly.

"Expect we should go out for supper tonight," Blaise murmured. "Wouldn't want to make anyone curious but not turning up."

"No kidding." As they came to the first landing, Harry threw a glance out the window at the setting sun.

"Wonder how Ginny's getting on with Malfoy?" he murmured.

Blaise snickered but said, "I feel sorry for her. Between Draco and her bleeding nephew, she's got a full-time job."

"Malfoy's probably making everything as difficult as he can for her," Harry agreed, mounting the next set of stairs. He frowned, suddenly realizing just how unpleasant things probably were for Ginny. "I'll call as soon as we get up to our room."

**)PvsM(**

Ginny and Dorian drew Draco, still slumped between them, to a halt in front of a large red door and a sign reading "Bath Backpackers" that stood on the step beside it. Ginny exchanged doubtful expressions with her companions. Draco leaned against the rot iron railing on the steps. He still didn't look well, although Ginny imagined that being off that noisy, bumpy train was a help.

_Probably food poisoning_, she thought. She'd never seen anyone react as badly to public transit as Draco had and it didn't really add up, when she thought about it. Draco took the Hogwarts Express along with the rest of them. That Muggle train hadn't been much different …

In need of a distraction, she turned her attention to her nephew, who was now gleefully hitting the button beside the dark box on the wall, which emitted a loud click every time.

"Stop that, Ian!" she commanded, biting down a sudden desire to laugh hysterically as she slapped his hand away. Rounding on Draco, she added, "I'm not the only adult here, you know! You're supposed to be his uncle."

"Little runt's just having some fun," Draco returned. He gave his stomach a rub and winced.

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"I'm fine!" he muttered.

"Obviously." Ginny examined the box for a moment, recalling their time in London. At Kendal's, she'd seen Cedric press the little button and hold it down as he spoke, so she thought that might be worth a try.

"Er – hello?" she said, feeling rather foolish.

The answering click made her jump and release the button.

"Can I help you?" came a harassed voice from the other end.

"We – we have reservations," Ginny said timidly.

"Come on through, then," the voice said impatiently. "And was one of you playing with the switch a moment ago?"

"No!" Ginny said, too quickly, glaring at Dorian when he giggled. "We – ah – just arrived ourselves."

"Right, well, come in," the voice ordered. There was another click, and the door popped ajar.

"Friendly, aren't they?" Draco mumbled, taking an unsteady step toward the door. He didn't complain when Dorian offered him a shoulder.

"You need a lie-down, Malfoy," Ginny returned.

"Only if you join me, Weasel," he drawled.

"When hell freezes over, perhaps," Ginny retorted. "You're not, as such, a sex god just now."

"Whose name did Ced reserve this under?" Either Dorian was ignoring the banter or he was oblivious, it was hard to tell.

"No idea … bugger," Ginny swore, stopping just inside the door.

"Let's narrow it down, shall we?" Draco said, his jaw rigid. "Who in their right mind would use _my _name in the Muggle world?"

"So that leaves either me or Ian and we're both Weasley," Ginny murmured. "And Ced wouldn't trust Ian to hide from a blind elephant so – "

"Hey!"

" – it's probably under my name," Ginny finished.

"Is that always the way your brain works?" Draco wondered, swallowing. "It must be mad in your mind, Weasley."

"I'm going to bat-bogey your brains out, Malfoy," she snapped.

They emerged into a small alcove on their left that looked like a reception desk. A grinning young man met them. He was clearly not the one in charge of the door.

"Good-day!" he said, in an accent that was obviously foreign. Australian or New Zealander, Ginny guessed. "Got reservations?"

"Yeah," Ginny said. "Should be under Ginny?"

The young man rifled through a stack of papers for a moment and Ginny held her breath.

"Ginny … Ginny … ah! I've got three for one night under Ginny Wesley."

Ginny glanced at the boys, but they just shrugged.

"That's it," Ginny managed. It made sense for Harry to change the name, after all.

"Something the matter?" the Muggle asked, pulling more papers out of a drawer and still grinning.

"Yeah." Dorian nodded. "We were worried they'd put it under Dorian or suchlike and the friends used to call me 'Dora.'"

The young man laughed.

"Right," he said, handing Ginny a pen. "Could you just sign here? It'll be sixty pounds fifty for the night. And are you paying by credit or cash?"

"Er – cash," Ginny said, pulling out their wallet of Muggle money.

"Great." The young man glanced at Draco, who Dorian had propped up in a chair. "Your friend all right?"

"Tired from the journey," Ginny said hastily as she carefully counted out pounds and pence onto the counter. She glanced back and caught a look at Draco's expression. "Do you have a loo?" she asked hastily. "We drank so much water on the way here."

The Muggle pointed and Draco vanished. The Muggle looked surprised but didn't comment. Ginny finished counting out her money and handed it over.

"Great," the Muggle said again. "Here're your room assignments and here's the lock combination for the front door. Make sure you don't lose that." He punched some buttons on an unfamiliar black machine and put their money inside.

"So," he said, coming out from behind the counter and leading them toward the stairs at the back of the lobby. "Just vacationing?"

"Er – yeah," Ginny said, tucking the money pouch back under her shirt as they went. "Backpacking," she added, experimentally. The word was on the sign and Harry had used it a few times.

"Gonna be in Bath long?" the Muggle asked as he led the way up the staircase, which was covered loosely in faded green carpet.

"No, not long," Dorian said cheerfully. "We're off tomorrow."

"Where you headed?" the Muggle asked.

"Wherever fancy takes us," Ginny broke in quickly, worried her nephew would say too much. "We're on an adventure."

"Sounds brilliant," the young man said, stopping before a door labeled 'Divas.'

"This is your dorm, love," he said to Ginny, handing her a key. "Don't lock yourself out."

"Thanks," she said, taking the key and biting back a nervous sigh. She'd been hoping she'd be in the same room as the boys, but in a dorm situation such as Cedric had described it was understandable why they'd be separated by gender.

"Don't worry," the Muggle said, patting her shoulder. "Your boyfriends are just up the stairs from you."

Ginny cursed herself for wearing her every emotion on her face as the Muggle led Dorian to a door at the top of some adjoining stairs.

"I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes, all right Au – uh, Ginny?" Dorian called, taking the key the Muggle offered him. The Muggle nodded genially and headed off down the stairs, with an over-the-shoulder "just ring up the front desk if you need anything."

She opened her mouth to reply but suddenly, metallic orchestral music blared out of nowhere, making her jump. A moment's consideration made Ginny realize after two run-throughs that it was coming from one of them.

"Oh, hell, it's one of our felly-tones," Dorian said. They fished around in their pockets a moment.

"It's mine," Ginny groaned. She held it up to her ear, as Harry had instructed her. "Hello?"

"No, no, Aunt, you've got to turn it on first." Dorian laughed. Reaching out, he pushed a button and then pressed it to her ear, with a "_Now_ talk."

Glaring at her nephew, she said uncertainly, "Hello?"

"Hey, Gin!" It was Harry's voice and the unexpectedness of it made her jump. "You guys okay?"

"About how you'd expect." She was still trying to adjust to the bizarre sensation of talking into a little black box. "I think," she added wearily, "that Draco's getting worse."

"That prat," Harry muttered. "I'm so sorry, Gin. How're you doing?"

"I'm fine," Ginny said, hoping she didn't sound too pathetic. "Have you heard from Cedric yet?"

_Or Hayden_, she added silently. Concern for _her_ child was uppermost in her mind all of a sudden.

"Not yet," Harry said. "But look, don't worry. I'd say Cedric's the best at this sneaking about business. He's setting them up in a youth hostel that's almost in the center of town. They're hidden the best."

"They'd better be," Ginny said. "Remember, the reason we came here was because _they_ wound up dead."

"I'm sorry, Gin." It must have been the millionth time he'd apologized.

"Never mind, Harry."

"So," he said into the awkward silence. "How's your place look?"

"Er – I'll have to get back to you on that," she said, glancing at the door marked 'Divas.'

"Do that," Harry told her. "Dorian told me earlier he's figured out three-way calling, so why don't you have him give me a call around nine tonight so we can discuss how to get out of town tomorrow morning?"

"Sounds fine," Ginny said. "Look, I'd better go. Malfoy went into the loo ten minutes ago and hasn't come out."

"Oh, brilliant," Harry said. Ginny heard an audible snort from somewhere on his end of the connection and assumed Blaise had heard her.

"Be safe," Ginny ordered him, her voice more serious. "I'll call tonight."

"Take care, Gin." There was a click.

Ginny pulled the felly-tone away from her ear and stared at it for a moment. There was a red button in the shape of a felly-tone and a similarly shaped one in green. Taking a wild guess, she hit the red one and a little message reading "call ended" appeared on her screen.

"Meet you out here in ten and if Uncle Draco's not out of the loo, we'll go in after him," Dorian proposed.

"Right." The idea was not appealing but Ginny waved her nephew away, pushing the key into the lock and entering her dorm. It was as shabby as the rest of the place, with six sagging bunk beds, a grungy carpet, and violently yellow walls. Ginny glanced at her dorm assignment and saw that she was in the bed labeled "Kylie Minogue." It was the bunk right by the door and was fortunately up-top. It gave her a window view of the walls of old buildings across the street and a bit of the high street itself.

Fortunately, the dorm was deserted. Ginny dumped her rucksack on the floor at the foot of the bed and kicked off her shoes. Hanging her jacket on the bedpost, she climbed onto the bunk and flopped backward, covering her face with her hands. She couldn't ever remember being that exhausted.

She lay absolutely still for what she judged to be ten minutes, eyes shut and mind so overcrowded it felt empty. When she couldn't put off the end of her ten blissful minutes any longer, she sat up and climbed off the bunk. Pulling on her shoes, she made sure the room key was in her pocket and her rucksack was tucked as far under her bunk as it would go. Then she left to meet Dorian.

Her nephew was sitting on the stairs just outside, waiting for her.

"No Uncle Draco?" she asked, sitting down beside him.

"He's still being violently sick in the loo downstairs," Dorian said with a sigh. "Dunno what's wrong with him. When Ced finds out that his favorite shirt might be covered in – ah, that's sick making! Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah – the Muggle – "

"Keep your voice down," Ginny admonished.

"Sorry." Dorian's ears went a bit red and Ginny bit back an impulsive grin. So much like Ron . . .

"Anyway, the bloke at the front," and Dorian made large quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "keeps coming round and asking if Uncle Draco's sick."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "No one's kicking us out," she said firmly. "I'm too bloody tired."

"What are we going to do about Uncle Draco?" Dorian wanted to know.

"It's not like we can use magic," she murmured, jogging her foot restlessly against the faded stair below. "Maybe . . . there must be Muggle remedies for upset stomach."

"Maybe you should ask the front desk bloke."

"Yes, but what will we ask him for? I don't think Muggles use apothecaries." But Ginny couldn't think of a better idea and Draco was still not out of the loo. So she took her nephew by the elbow and they went back down to reception.

"Our friend's a bit sick from the bus and train we took to get here," Ginny told the bloke at the desk. She hesitated but he didn't look as though he was going to throw them out on account of illness, so she carried on. "Where could we get – er, something for him?"

"Oh, there's a chemist right up the road," the Muggle said. He even looked sympathetic "Walk through the Abbey courtyard and take a left. It's just as you reach the high street."

"Right – uh, thanks," Ginny said. She and Dorian retreated back toward the stairs and met a shaking Draco as he came out of the loo.

"Not a bleeding word, Weasleys," he said hoarsely. He coughed and Ginny noticed his breath smelled strongly of mint. He'd clearly had his toothbrush in there with him. Ginny silently put an arm around him to help him back up the stairs. He didn't say another word but leaned dispiritedly on her.

"I'm going to go find the chemist, whatever that is," Ginny said in his ear as they mounted the stairs. "Apparently, there's a Muggle remedy that might help."

"You're not going on your own," Draco said weakly. "And you're not feeding me Muggle swill," he added, though his heart wasn't in it.

"Bleeding am," Ginny told him succinctly. "You'll be fine in no time."

"You're not wandering around the Muggle world on your own," Draco insisted, the arm gripping Ginny's shoulders tightening. "Red Robes and the Unspeakables are roaming around somewhere and you don't know the first thing about Muggles. Ian's going with you and I'll just have a lie-in. I'll be fine."

"I doubt that," Dorian muttered, stopping beside their dorm door and turning the key in the lock. Poking his head in, he said, "Come on in, Aunt Gin. It's empty."

Ginny led Draco in and helped him down on his bunk. He sank back with a groan that might have been grateful. "Bloody uncomfortable," he muttered a moment later, shifting restlessly about.

Ginny sat down on the edge of the bed and helped him straighten the pillows under his head.

"You're hopeless, Draco Malfoy," she said, shaking her head with an expression that she didn't know was very reminiscent of her mum. She went to the foot of the bed and tugged his boots off.

"I'm not, either," he grumbled as she pulled the battered comforter over his long frame. He slanted a look at her. "Stop fussing, Gin."

She ignored him, tucked the blanket in around him, and adjusted the pillows again. She decided that she liked Draco this way, when he was softer around the edges and let her take care of him. He obviously enjoyed it and Ginny liked not having her guard up all the time.

"Try to get some sleep," she said, pushing his fine, blond hair off his damp forehead. He tried to keep his eyes open but soon his eyelids drooped. The creases in his forehead relaxed under her fingers. She trailed her fingertips down one cheek, then the other, suddenly not wanting to move away. He looked so much younger when he slept. _A bit like Hayden._

Abruptly, his hand snaked up to catch hers and he brought it to his lips with the gentlest kiss.

"If you're going, go now, Weasley," he said, his eyes still closed. "The sooner you're back, the sooner – " He paused.

"The sooner you can stop fussing like a mother hen?" Dorian suggested from the bunk above his uncle's, wither he had retired with boots still on. "I'll go with her, Uncle."

"Honestly, it's not – " Ginny began.

"Never mind arguing with him, Aunty," Dorian said, hopping down from the bunk and holding the dorm door open for her. "I know what he's like – remember, he's gonna be my uncle."

"Sod right off." Draco dropped Ginny's hand. "Get going, Weasleys."

"We're going, we're going," Ginny retorted. Impulsively, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead. "Try to get some sleep."

Dorian was giving her a funny sort of smile as she turned to go.

"Not a word," she warned, striding passed him out the door.

In wasn't until they were standing on the pavement outside the hostel that Dorian pointed out that neither of them had the faintest idea what a 'chemist' was or what it might look like.

"You know how to use a felly-tone better than I do," Ginny pointed out, glancing apprehensively up and down the street. "Give Ced a call."

As they set off toward Bath Abbey, its towering spire already visible, Ginny threw a glance up at the window she assumed connected to Draco's dorm.

And wondered for the thousandth frustrating time whether they'd ever really become anything more than whatever they were now.

**)Pvs.M(**

"Ced, is that your felly-tone?" Tristan asked her brother, who led the way up a steep cobblestone street at a breakneck pace. The sound was something unfamiliar and orchestral and seemed to move with Cedric.

Cedric stopped so suddenly that Tristan, who was right behind him, walked into him, and Hayden into her.

"Sorry," they both said. Tristan rubbed the back of her head and glared at her godbrother, who clamped his mouth shut sharply enough that his teeth clicked. Cedric, Tristan noticed with some disappointment, was too occupied with the felly-tone to biff Hayden for touching her.

"Hello?" Cedric had the silver box pressed to his ear. ". . . Ian! Is everything alright? . . . Good – and you found the hostel? . . . Sorry, there wasn't much choice, was there? . . . Well, you three look too rough to show up at a nice B and B . . . Look, what do you need? . . . Uncle Draco – what's wrong with him?"

Tristy glanced at Hayden. He chewed at his lip, eyes fixed on Cedric. However much of a twit the younger version of Uncle Draco was, Hayden was clearly getting attached.

"What do you mean, food poisoning? . . . What could he have eaten that we wouldn't have? . . . Oh, forget it – look, a chemists is like an apothecary . . . yeah, you're probably looking for a place called Boots . . . the high street, right. We saw one across the square in front of Bath Abbey . . . yeah, now a left . . . good, do you see it? . . . Excellent! Now just go in and ask the assistant for a remedy for indigestion . . . actually, let Aunt Gin do it, she's better at acting normal than you are . . . oh, don't get touchy . . . all right, call if you need anything else. Best thing would probably be to let him toss whatever else is in his stomach . . . okay, later then."

Cedric hit another button and blew out a long breath.

"Uncle Draco's got food poisoning or something like," he said unnecessarily, rubbing a hand over his face. "Ian and Aunt Gin are out hunting for some Muggle remedy."

Tristan snorted. "He's a git. Poor Aunt Gin!" She gave Hayden a pointed look.

"Is Mum okay?" Hayden asked, surprising Tristan by ignoring her.

"Dead tired," Cedric countered. "But she'll manage, I reckon." His eyes twinkled, just a little. "Not to worry. I'll never forget when you and Tris got Dragon Pox at the same time. Aunt Gin had you both because Dad couldn't handle the simplest thing and Aunt Gin's a healer anyway. She was awake for three days fixing you both up properly."

"I don't remember that," Tristan murmured.

"I do," Hayden said, glaring at her. "We had to share a bed because Mum set up a quarantine in my room. You kicked."

Tristan felt herself go unaccountably red and snapped, "I hope I did!"

Cedric, meanwhile, had started walking without them. Tristan hurried to catch up. "Are we nearly there, Ced?"

"Thankfully," he muttered.

"I'm hungry," Tristan grumbled, sticking out her lip.

Cedric made the mistake of looking back at her, sighed gustily, and caught hold of her hand. "Little monster," he accused, pulling her along.

They found the hostel several minutes later, between a bookstore and a small museum.

"Ced," Tristan began as they crossed the open courtyard. "I'm _still _hungry." When he turned, looking annoyed, she gave him a big grin.

"Right, stop that," he said, unable to stop a grin of his own. Somehow, Tristan had always felt she knew just how to manage her brother. "We'll just get settled in here and then go for a bite somewhere nearby. I don't want anyone staying out for too long in case Red Robes or our legal guardians are lurking somewhere."

"They're Unspeakables and we know Red Robes has got a Time-Turner," Hayden pointed out, striding along on Cedric's other side and scowling with energy at nothing in particular. He was also scratching his scalp, out of which his normal platinum hair had reappeared an hour ago.

Tristan giggled.

"What?" Hayden demanded, glaring around Cedric at her.

"Imagine if you woke up bald one morning," she said.

"I'd still look a right side better than _you_ do," he muttered.

"You couldn't dream of being half as gorgeous as me," she taunted. "Right, Ced?"

"No, Hayden will never be as beautiful as you," Cedric said, winking at Hayden.

"I hate you, Potters," Hayden muttered.

"Oy, what did I do?" Cedric demanded.

"Older brothers are nice," Tristan said cheerfully as she followed hers into the Bath YMCA. She listened with half an ear while Cedric negotiated with Stan, a friendly old man who buzzed them into the dorms after having them all sign the reservation form.

"And whenever you want in, just give us a shout and someone will buzz you up," Stan told them with a toothy grin.

"Is there a pub nearby where we might grab a bite to eat?" Tristan asked as her stomach gave a sudden, distracting grumble.

"Sure is, love. Across the courtyard and take a left. The Saracen's Head is the oldest pub in Bath and they've got excellent food."

"Thanks," Tristy said, rubbing her stomach. A faint noise made her look up. Hayden was staring at her torso, his eyes unfocused. She gave an experimental rub, watched Hayden's gaze follow her hand for a moment before the mysterious spell broke and he went red. He also sent a rude gesture her way.

"Brilliant," said Cedric, who hadn't noticed any of this because he was already at a door across the lobby. "We'll grab a bite once we're settled."

They climbed a long set of steps. The place seemed oddly empty to Tristan, though she was pleased to see that the checked carpet and white walls were clean.

"Tris, you're on this level," Cedric said at the first landing. "Girls' dorms are down the hall, Stan said. Hayden and I are on the next floor up. Come up when you've dumped your stuff."

"Sure." Tristy crossed to the hall and, after a moment's search, found a door labeled 'Girls dormitory – females _only_ beyond this point.' Well, that was something anyway. She wouldn't have to sleep anywhere near Hayden (though apparently they'd slept together before, she remembered as her cheeks warmed).

"Painters must be on the way in," she muttered balefully, pushing open the dormitory door. "I'm clearly emotionally unstable."

The dorm room was empty of any other luggage or people. "Must be off-season," she murmured, wandering over the window and peering down into the bustling street below. A sudden memory of the near-disaster at Kendal's flat in London made her back quickly away and choose the bed nearest the door. Kicking off her shoes and cracking all of her knuckles simultaneously, Tristan dropped her bag by the bed and flopped backward onto the lower bunk, closing her eyes and relaxing into the blankets. She hoped they swallowed her up and she'd never have to leave again …

It took perhaps several moments of music blaring from somewhere nearby for Tristan to realize she'd fallen asleep. Another moment's confusion before she recognized her felly-tone's ring. Fortunately her glasses were still on, and she was able to dig the thing out of her pocket and identify the 'answer' button. "Er – what?" she said intelligently.

"How bleeding long does it take to dump your rucksack?" Hayden's irritable voice jolted her fully awake.

"I'm tired," she snapped. "Just nodded off, that's all."

"We would've left without you, but Ced actually minds if you starve to death," Hayden grumbled. He yelped. "Oy, you arse!"

"Hope he broke your useless arm," Tristan said, yanking the felly-tone away from her ear and throwing it at the door.

Oh, how she hated him …

**)PvsM(**

The walk to the Saracen's Head was short and silent. Tristan kept her brother between herself and Hayden. Her godbrother wasn't making it difficult because he was doing the same thing, and Cedric probably enjoyed the quiet enough not to disrupt it by asking what in the name of arse they were doing. They found a table near the door but out of immediate view of it and Cedric ordered a pint of something because, as he said, "I'm coming as close to pissed as I can."

"Can I have some?" Hayden asked.

"Oh, why not?" Cedric muttered, and ordered another pint. "Don't even think about it," he added as the second pint arrived and Tristan opened her mouth.

"What?" she grumbled. "I'm the same age as Hayden."

"Forget it," Cedric said sternly. "You can have a ginger beer if you like."

"Ooh, what a treat," Tristan retorted but she got one anyway and was pleased to see it came in a frosted beer stein, too. She'd never had ginger beer before but tasted nice and settled the hungry ache in her stomach until their Sheppard's pies and fried onion arrived.

"I could eat a hippogriff!" Hayden murmured, digging into his food and keeping a firm grip on his pint with his free hand.

Tristan was too hungry to make fun of him. She thought she'd never tasted anything so good in her life.

"I didn't realize you were that hungry, love," Cedric said after a silent ten minutes, during which Tristan polished off her Sheppard's pie and most of the fried onion.

"Neither did I," Tristan admitted. "Excuse me," she added to a passing waiter. "Tell me what else is good," and she indicated the menu. "I'm starving."

The waiter glanced at her empty plate, up at her, and grinned. "Like a girl with a healthy appetite," he said. "Your next plate, whatever you like, love, it's on me."

Tristan beamed, especially because she was sure Hayden and her brother were glowering at her. "Lovely."

She ate her way through several appetizers and drank another pint of ginger beer. The waiter, Joe, only left off bringing her free things when Cedric's glower became too much for him.

"Shame, too," he murmured to Tristan as he collected her empty plates. "I was going to slip you my number."

"You're sweet," Tristan told him, grinning. "But we have to leave tomorrow anyway."

Hayden seemed in an especially bad mood on the walk back to the hostel. Tristan kept Cedric between them again, although she felt in a much better mood now. A full stomach and the knowledge that _some_ blokes thought she was worth a second look made her smile.

"Oh, damn," she said suddenly. "He wanted to give me his _felly-tone_ number."

"What of it?" Cedric demanded a bit testily.

"Ced, I have a _felly-tone_ now!" she said plaintively. "Oh, I must spend more time in the Muggle world …"

"You're common enough already, don't you think?" Hayden growled.

Cedric gave him a dangerous look and Hayden snapped, "Oh, save it," and stalked on ahead of them.

"No more flirting with Muggles, Tris," Cedric ordered as he followed Hayden into the hostel.

Tristan ignored them both, seating herself on the hostel's front steps.

"Come on in, little girl," Cedric called from the door.

"Just want some fresh air," she called back. "I'm fine here, Ced, I'll be in in a couple of minutes."

She heard footsteps behind her and the hostel door closing. Suddenly, for the first time in days, she felt truly alone. She wasn't sure whether she liked it or not. She scanned the courtyard carefully but apart from a shopkeeper closing up and people passing through the courtyard on their way, presumably, to the Saracen's Head, there was no one around. Tristan tried, for a moment, to imagine what she'd do if the Unspeakables came through the archway into the courtyard. The steps she was sitting on were tucked away under an awning at the doorway of the hostel and she wondered idly if she could make it inside before they spotted her.

Tristan paused. Did she _want_ to be caught?

The door opened behind her but she didn't turn. It was probably Cedric, she thought, come to tell her to get to bed.

It wasn't Cedric.

"What do you want?" Tristan asked as Hayden sat down beside her and glared out into the courtyard.

To her surprise, he didn't say a word.

"Did my brother send you out?" she wanted to know. "Because it's really not a dangerous courtyard. I mean, a group of lads came through and they didn't see me and then this couple came through and snogged for about an hour and they didn't see me – obviously – and – "

"Look," Hayden cut in suddenly "About earlier …" He trailed off, still scowling into the lamp-lit cobblestones.

"What, in the pub?"

"No, not in the pub," Hayden cut her off sharply. "In the bookshop."

Tristan had spent all day blocking that out. She blushed and looked away. "What about it?" she asked so softly she wasn't sure he heard.

There was a long silence. "You going to pretend it was all just to get rid of that Auror bloke?" he asked quietly.

The question caught her so off-guard that she stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Hayden said, biting out each word, "that we were so bloody busy snogging that I didn't ever hear the bloke leave the shop."

"Are you saying," Tristan said slowly, carefully, as her heart began to pound, "that you weren't just snogging me for show?"

"I asked first," he said mutinously.

Tristan thought about arguing the point but she was too curious what he might say if she answered him. "It was weird," she said at last, looking away again. "But no," she said, her cheeks warming even more. "I wasn't just doing it for show."

"Is 'weird' good?" The hostility was gone from Hayden's voice, replaced by some new emotion Tristan couldn't identify. When she risked another look at him, he was studying his hands.

"I – I don't know," she murmured, continuing to watch his face. She tried to remember hating him an hour ago and couldn't manage it. "Was it?"

Hayden turned slowly to stare at her. Tristan felt his gaze snare her and she couldn't move or look away. She wasn't sure she even wanted to. It was like the bookshop all over again, only this time it was Hayden who reached for her, hand curving over her thigh and turning her toward him. His other hand reached up, tilting her face toward his as he leaned in. Tristan closed her eyes.

"_Oh, is ickle-Malfoy having a hard time using his tongue? Seems to be your only decent weapon, doesn't it?" _

"_Too bad you'll never know, Potter."_

"_You promised! You promised you'd be in Gryffindor with us!"_

"_It's not my fault!"_

"No!" she gasped.

"No, what?" Hayden said, his breath brushing her lips.

"No, it _wasn't_ good," Tristan managed, though she wanted nothing more than to lean into his arms. "We should forget it ever happened."

Hayden turned away, and Tristan forced herself to stare straight ahead into the courtyard. He couldn't – _wouldn't_ forgive her. Not now. Not ever. And as long as he blamed her, as long as he denied hurting her more terribly than anyone ever had, she couldn't let him get close. She couldn't ignore the ache.

She was getting to her feet to go back inside when a cold hand caught his arm. Hayden rose beside her, the same unreadable emotion in his eyes. "Don't lie to me," he said softly, his hand sending gooseflesh up her arm. "You started it."

"It wasn't my fault," she said, repeating words from so long ago and suddenly realizing how many different things they meant now. "And I'm not sorry, Hayden," she said fiercely. "About any of it – "

He caught her face in his hands and crushed her lips beneath his. Tristan's knees went weak and she caught his arms to keep from falling backward. His arms slid around her and he lifted her right off her feet. Tristan heart slammed against his, her hips bumped against his, her lips moved with his. She couldn't end it. She didn't know how to walk away anymore. Somehow, she managed to turn her head enough that Hayden's lips trailed away from hers, working a hot path down her neck.

"Hayden," she whispered against his ear. "Hayden, listen to me."

Slowly, his lips trailed into the curve of her shoulder and he stopped, his face pressed into her neck. "Tris …" he began, and another shiver ran down her back when his breath tickled her skin.

"When are you going to stop blaming me?" she went on, determined to say what needed saying before they went any further. "And when are you going to ask my forgiveness? You hurt me so much."

He was so surprised that he let her go and she stumbled away, leaning against the brick wall. She felt tears pool and slide down her face. "I can't be with someone who misjudges me and resents me and blames me for things I could never control," she said, wiping angrily at the tears. "However much I love him," she added, her voice so low she hoped he couldn't hear because the words shocked her. She'd never let herself hear that before but it was true.

When she looked into his eyes, they were so wide and black she could hardly see the silver irises. Without another word, she ducked into the hostel and went straight to her room.

**)PvsM(**

"The bus station was right across from the train station – I swear I saw it, Ced," Ginny insisted.

"Check the guidebook again," Harry suggested.

Night was falling, though the moon cast a bright glow across the room that mingled with the pools of light from the room's few lamps. Harry sat in an old rocking chair by window, trying to focus on his plans for the next day and not on the room's one bed or the sound of Blaise singing in the shower.

"She's right," Cedric's voice said, calling Harry's attention back to their three-way phone call. "Well, that makes things a bit easier."

"Or maybe a bit too easy," Harry said. "I still say we should take different buses and meet up in Glastonbury."

"Should we risk splitting up again, though?" Ginny said doubtfully. "Suppose whoever takes the later bus gets caught by Red Robes? Or suppose the first group arrives in Glastonbury and the Unspeakables are waiting?"

"That could happen whether we're together or not," Harry began.

"She's got a point, Dad," Cedric said slowly. "Plus, waiting around for each other is a waste of time. We'd have to spread out so we wouldn't look suspicious huddling at a bus stop for hours . . . "

"But whoever gets there first can have a head start poking around Glastonbury," Harry insisted. "When the next group arrives, they start on a new area of town. Look, this is why we got these ruddy phones. We'll cover more area and be less conspicuous in small groups. When the last group arrives, we can meet up for sandwiches or something and talk about what we all found."

There was a pause while Cedric and Ginny thought this over.

"All right," Cedric said at last. "I don't like it, but you're right. The portal to Avalon could be anywhere within the town and the sites are all kind of spread out. The less time we spend looking for the entrance, the better."

"Now that's settled, I'd better get back to Malfoy," Ginny said.

"How's he doing?" Cedric asked, while Harry felt guilt settle like a brick in his stomach.

Ginny sighed. "I can't imagine there's anything left in his stomach to toss, so I think he'll start feeling better soon," she said. There was an odd note in her voice that reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley. "The Muggle healer at the chemist's told me to wait until he hasn't been sick for at least two hours and then try him on some Muggle drink called Coca-Cola. If he holds that, he gets crackers and sips of water." Ginny sighed, although Harry heard a faint smile in her voice as she added, "It's gonna be a late night, I expect."

"Wow!" The guilt settled a little heavier. "Anything we can do? Should I come round to help?"

"Let the three of us leave Bath last tomorrow," she suggested. "No, don't come round, I can manage. Ian's helping. And it's funny, but Malfoy's much more bearable when he's arse-backward sick."

"That's good to hear," Cedric murmured. "If you think of anything, call one of us. If that's all, then let's plan on my group leaving first. The further ahead I get the kids, the better I'll feel. We'll leave at seven. There're buses to Wells that connects with the Glastonbury bus every two hours. Dad, you and Mum follow behind us, and Aunt Gin, you lot aim for eleven."

"Got it, Ced."

"Sounds good."

"Be safe, you two."

"Ced?" Ginny's voice was soft. "Tell Hayden good night and I love him, will you?"

Harry heard the smile in his son's voice. "Course, Aunty."

"To you and Tris as well," she added.

"From me, too," Harry added quickly. "Kiss Tristan good night for me."

There was a short pause. "Sure, Dad." Harry couldn't quite read the emotion in his son's voice, but he sounded pleased.

When Harry at last rang off and set his mobile on the window sill, it was with a heavy sigh. He knew sitting around feeling bad wouldn't help Ginny, but he couldn't help it. He could only hope that she'd get some sleep before her group left tomorrow morning. His thoughts turned to his daughter with a wave of worry and affection that helped distract him from his guilt for a short while.

The loo door opened behind him and Harry threw a look over his shoulder. Blaise had emerged from her long shower, looking refreshed and, to Harry's alarm, wrapped in nothing but a towel.

"Oh, stop looking at me like that," she said as she drew up beside him and glanced out the window. She smirked down at him. From where Harry sat, he had a spectacular view of her long legs, just covered by the bloody indecent towel. "I'll wait until you're gone to change."

"That's big of you," Harry said, grabbing the clean towel draped over the baseboard of the bed and diving into the loo. He thought he heard her laugh before he slammed the door.

His shower took even longer than Blaise's because it began very, very cold and only ended when he was sure he could enter the room composedly. He took a little extra time toweling his hair dry. As he was pulling on his shorts and soft sleeping trousers, he realized he'd left his tee shirt in his rucksack. Growling under his breath, he left the loo and came to a sharp halt.

Blaise lay sprawled across the bed, moonlight blanketing her pale skin and dark hair in a gentle glow. She was on her back and Harry could see her chest rise and fall in easy rhythm. He could see the movement of her eyelids as she dreamed and after a few moments, she moaned a little in her sleep and rolled over, now effectively in the middle of the bed.

_Oh_, he thought helplessly. _Lovely_.

Skirting the bed, Harry moved about the room turning out lights. He tried to find his shirt in his rucksack but it had mysteriously vanished. Muttering under his breath, he thought about the chilly night ahead as he returned to the rocking chair and settled in.

"Potter, what are you doing?"

Harry turned reluctantly toward the bed. Blaise blinked sleepily at him. In the moonlight, Harry could see that she was wearing his shirt. He couldn't help smiling.

"Go on, I'm not going to bite," Blaise said sleepily, sliding over and patting the bed beside her. "Who knows when we'll get a good night's sleep again."

Harry pushed himself out of the rocking chair and crossed the room. He hesitated.

"What's wrong?" Blaise asked softly. When he didn't answer, she reached out a hand. Harry took it, staring down at their interlaced fingers. He sat slowly down.

"You're exhausted," Blaise said, reaching soft hands out and pressing him back into the pillows. "Sleep now." She leaned down and kissed him, so gently it made his chest ache. He pulled her down beside him and she curled into him, wrapping her leg over his and tugging the blankets over them both. Harry felt torn between kissing her until the sun rose and sinking into sleep.

Blaise made the choice for him, pressing a kiss to his heart and running gentle fingers across his face. "Sleep now, Harry."

And he did.

**)PvsM(**

_TBC _


	12. Lots of History and Mythical Crap

A/N: God, I'm sorry! I've actually had this done since like Monday but I was determined that some editing should be done before I posted it. It's so freaking long, though, that I've only had time for one read through. Seriously, this was the chapter that wouldn't end. I'd also like to point out that all facts concerning Glastonbury, including descriptions of various places, were taken from my own knowledge and experiences there (all two of them) and I'm rather glad that I was able to keep it more or less factual. I apologize for any goofs. I tried to be accurate.

I also want you all to know that I think I've sorted the plot out but if you see any MAJOR plot holes, send me an e-mail (don't put them in a review, as I may miss it). The next chapter will be brimming with plot but will be so involved that it may take a while to update. I intend to devote myself to this story until it's completed, however. I'm on a roll and I'd like to keep on it. Sorry for those of you waiting for more of my other stuff. On to that when this is completed. I promise I'll write faster that way.

Hope you all enjoy. I tried to balance plot with human interaction. We'll see how well THAT turned out. Sorry, too, about any misspellings, grammatical errors, etc. I wanted this posted TODAY so I had to rush the editing more than I like.

J.T. of Gryffindor

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Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good…(of course it's not ours!)

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NOTE: Yes, I know I call the pub The Seraph in the last chapter and the Saracen's Head in this chapter. It is because I am a moron and screwed up the name of the pub in the last chapter. I've been there, for god's sake! You'd think I'd know. Anyway, its real name is the Saracen's Head, and I've changed it in the last chapter as well. Don't be confused.

P.S. Anyone who catches the V. BRIEF Monty Python reference/quote gets a gold star – and a medal – and a "bitchin" sweater that's belonged to my best friend's vati since the late 1790s!

P.P.S. Special thanks to reviewer XUnFoRgEtTaBlEbAbEX who wrote a bitchin, long review for me including all sorts of questions that were the layout for me when I sat down to plan the end of this story. You've saved my butt, friend!!!!! Word to yo mama – and stuff

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"Tris? Tristy? Oh, come on, love, wake up!"

The tender voice in her ear momentarily confused Tristan.

"Daddy?" she whispered, blinking blearily as she stared over the side of her bunk at a blurred figure with prominently black hair.

"Thanks a lot." Ah, no, that would be Cedric.

"Glasses?" she croaked. Something cold and metallic was pressed into her waiting hand.

"Thanks." Donning the telltale specks, she peered at him again, noticing both that he was already dressed and that he had a pack on.

"Wha – we're leaving already?" she yawned, pushing herself into a sitting position.

"We're the first bunch out and we've a seven o'clock bus with our names on it. We'll grab a quick bite in the cafeteria and then hit the road."

"_Seven o'clock_?" Tristan demanded, nevertheless throwing her long legs over the side of the bed. She glanced out the window, through which a dim light was beginning to glimmer. "Why so early?"

"Two hour bus ride," Cedric told her, reaching up and lifting her easily down. Tristan sighed in annoyance. He always babied her. Ruffling her hair was another unfortunate habit of his, which he soon after indulged in.

"_Ced, stop it_," she whined, stepping out of reach. "Two hours? I thought Glastonbury wasn't twenty miles from here."

He grinned ruefully.

"It isn't." He hefted the pack. "But the coach goes through a lot of country – Muggle towns and the like. In fact, we'll have to change in Wells, and then it's another twenty minutes."

"Oh, good," she muttered. "So if we get there before nightfall, we should count ourselves lucky?"

"Look on the bright side – you'll have as much time as you want to pick bloody stupid fights with lover boy out there," he retorted, his voice a funny mixture sarcasm, gruffness, and amusement at her discomfiture and subsequent blush.

"Go away," she said, giving him a shove toward the door.

"Going, going," he said, holding his hands out in a gesture of mock-placation. "Pack up. And put some clothes on."

"These _are_ clothes," she called after him.

"One might also call them 'unnecessary enticement,'" Cedric retorted from the hall, his tone a bit louder than usual.

Probably hoping Hayden would overhear, Tristan thought with a flash of annoyance at her brother's over protectiveness. She really didn't need it – she'd proven for years that she could protect and take care of herself.

_Except the time when it was most important_, she thought, remembering with a fresh shock the reason they were all on this crazy escapade. It was she and Hayden who'd wound up dead at the wrong end of the timeline, after all.

The _why _of the whole thing was what puzzled Tristan, though. There was the _why_ of her and Hayden being the targets, for a start . The obvious conclusion to draw was that they were the children of two of the most socially elite wizarding families is Britain. But what would the murderer have to gain by their deaths? Wouldn't a ransom make more sense than a murder? Was it an implied threat – as in, 'these two are first, who might be next?'

And then there was the why of the tampered with Portkey from Batley. Instead of taking them to Baggeridge Woods it had taken them to a dragon breeding ground.

"Who did Uncle Draco say the owner was?" Tristan mumbled to herself, pulling on her pants and staring blankly at the wall. Mac-somebody. Could someone from that family be in league with Red Robes?

The why that was really bothering her, though, was _why the hell had they gone back in time to begin with_? Had they indeed been killed in this time and been removed to the past to lure her young mum and dad here or had they gone back in time and been met by the killer? Had the killer been her and Hayden's reason for going back? Maybe they'd wanted to warn somebody of something.

A sudden thought struck Tristan. _What if Red Robes wasn't really after her and Hayden?_ Neither of them were important key players in anything, as far as she knew. If would make much more sense for Red Robes to be after her father, or Uncle Draco, or Aunt Gin, even. She and Hayden made much more sense as the pawns, standing between Red Robes and the king or queen. Or they might have been in the way at the time they'd been killed, implying that they had gone back in time of their own volition.

The question was whether Red Robes was after the elder or younger versions. It made more sense to kill Harry, Blaise, Draco, and Ginny in the past, rather than trying to contend with their powerful future selves, she supposed.

It struck Tristan as she pulled on her worn boots that despite her impending murder, she wasn't feeling afraid, exactly. She should have been. Goddess, they were being chased by the murderer and their murder could have been any time in the near future. And yet . . . she felt strangely calm. A bit tense, as she had been for the entire trip. But it was more the tension of having been on her guard for weeks than of fear.

Perhaps it was her hope that her young father's coming was going to change time in some significant way that helped keep her composed. They had fair warning now. They would get to Dumbledore, Merlin willing, _today_. And they would get answers, sanctuary. She would be safe. Hayden would be safe.

_And we might find Mum_, she thought suddenly. A week ago she would have liked nothing more than to rip her mother's cold heart from her chest for the pain she'd caused her father, for the hurt to Cedric. Now, though . . . she'd gotten to know her mum's younger self, particularly on that night at Ken's place. The way she'd spoke, defended Tristan from her nightmarish younger Uncle Draco, touched her face . . .

_"That's enough, Draco!"_

"Thanks – thanks for defending me."   
  
"Yeah – right. He shouldn't have been talking to you like that."

_"I miss not having a mum." _

_"Look, hun. I'm no good at sentimental rubbish, but I seriously doubt I would have left Potter and my family without a good reason. Even now, I can't imagine it. And come on, Neville sodding Longbottom?"_

Tristan grinned a bit.

"God, you move like a flobberworm."

Tristan glanced sharply up and saw Hayden glaring through the half-open doorway. He'd been even more unpleasant than usual after their scene in front of the Saracen's Head. They'd sat as far away from each other as possible inside the pub, but Tristan had not bothered to hide her staring as she contemplated Hayden and her past with him for the first time since – well, since before their fight in first year. Allowing herself to accept what she felt for him and likewise becoming fully aware that it had been _his_ fault, not hers, had given her boldness to confront the pent up emotions that had haunted her so long.

"If you can't say anything worth hearing, then shut up," she advised, lacing her boots with care. "No one's stopping you from going down to breakfast without me." She gave him an unimpressed look. "I doubt even Ced is that paranoid."

She'd guessed and defeated his purpose. He'd been opening his mouth to blame his loitering on her older brother, but Tristan had him.

"It _is_ awfully nice of you to wait for me, though," she said, managing to remove the bite of sarcasm from her voice. "I won't be another minute, really."

His scowling face disappeared from her door, but she didn't hear the tramp of retreating feet. Odd.

Don't read anything into it, she chided herself. He'd spent seven years convincing himself she was at fault and that he hated her. Nothing had changed.

"I don't hate you."

_"You – you don't?" _

_"No."_

Tristan closed her eyes as the memory of his voice when he'd said that came back to her. She shook the thought away, hoisted her pack onto her back, checked her pocket for her felly-tone, and left the room. Sure enough, Hayden met her on the landing (he was still glowering, she noticed with annoyance) and they descended the winding steps.

"Get up on the wrong side of bed?" she asked, partly irritated, but mostly curious. Anger was a symptom. Something besides Tristan must have been aggravating him. Sure, he was still hacked about last night, but then why wait for her on the landing?

"You do realize," he bit out, "that we're being chased by a murderer."

She stared at him. _That_ hadn't been what she expected at all.

"No way! What brought you to that conclusion?" she said in mock-horror.

"Tristan!" He grabbed her shoulder, pulling her to a halt as they stepped off onto the next landing and stepping around to face her. "Have you really _thought_ about this? _You're going to die_."

She gaped. Not because she hadn't realized this but because it was only a few minutes ago that she'd _really _begun to give it thought herself.

"Don't you see?" he said, his voice suddenly strained and his expression going from angry to anxious. "Our parents coming forward in time – us going to find Dumbledore – this could all be leading up to our deaths, couldn't it? Their coming to warn us could be what's going to make us go back in time and die."

Tristan gave a start, as she suddenly realized what he meant. Her parents coming to save them, _before they'd gone back in time_, could be – or rather, have been – what caused them to go back in time themselves in the first place.

"What – what suddenly made you start thinking about this all of a sudden?" she asked shakily.

"Nothing!" he snapped, tearing his eyes away from her face.

"Hayden!" she said, almost desperately. He'd not said "we're going to die" but "_you're_ going to die." And he didn't hate her. And he'd offered to loan her a sweater. And he'd kissed her – twice. And she loved him. And . . .

"Oh," she whispered, staring at his downcast face. He was glowering defiantly at the floor. "Hayden?" she said again, reaching out a hesitant hand and pulling at his chin until his eyes rose to meet hers. Their expression was unreadable, but the thoughts behind them were as open to Tristan as a book. She'd known him since they'd been babies, after all.

Feeling torn, she passed his chin to stroke his pale cheek, wishing achingly that they could resolve everything right now. But it was like there was a wall – a wall that didn't allow Hayden to say the words Tristan had to hear. He stared helplessly at her through hooded eyes, as if trying to throw the words he couldn't say aloud into her mind. He stood perfectly still as her hand traveled gently over every inch of his face.

Tristan took a deep breath, feeling a headache coming on. Nothing had ever been simple with them, and she couldn't accept a silent repent. Until he overcame the pride that he landed him in Gryffindor House, Tristan couldn't accept him. Slowly, she removed her hand from his face, watching his beautiful eyes flutter closed and then open again with an almost painful entreaty.

"Look." She rubbed her temples, closed her own eyes. "We don't have time for this, or 'what if' games. Yeah, this might be leading to our deaths, or it could be that Uncle Harry's decision to warn us has already re-written a huge chunk of history. I don't know." She opened her eyes, but couldn't stand to look at him and hurried passed him down the stairs.

He followed in silence, making no move to stop her.

She reached the cafeteria to see her brother chowing down on cereal, fruit, and toast points. He'd already filled their bowls, cups, and platters with food he knew they liked.

Both sat silent as they eat, and Tristan couldn't ignore her brother's surprised, suspicious glances.

"What's with you two?" he finally demanded after finishing off the last of his toast. "No bickering, no teasing, _nothing_. What's up?"

"We're worried about Red Robes, Ced," Hayden spoke up quickly. Tristan threw him a grateful look for taking the initiative. She didn't think she was up for lying to her brother at the moment. Not that it was completely a lie. They _were_ worried about Red Robes.

_About time, too_, she thought, realizing how ridiculous it was that neither of them had really given their murderer deep thought before.

"We were talking about the timeline, and – well, our parents coming forward in time could be what caused us to go back, couldn't it?" he said, quirking a blond brow.

"It could," Cedric agreed, looking speculatively between his cousin and his sister. "But – look, kids, don't go second guessing yourselves. It could be that, or it could be that dad and mum and Aunt Gin and Uncle Draco are creating massive changes that are already altering things for the better."

Tristan felt relieved as he spoke the words she had earlier so firmly.

"Let's take this one step at a time," he said slowly, watching them finish their food. "We'll get to Glastonbury, hopefully find Avalon – "

"If anyone can find it, you can, Ced," Tristan said with a firm grip on his hand.

"She's right," Hayden said, his eyes steely. "You'll find it, Ced."

He grinned ruefully back and forth between the younger kids. There was something in his eyes that made Tristan uneasy. Whatever it was vanished almost before it had appeared. "Well, no sense in worrying prematurely. Let's get that bus and get the hell out of here."

They checked out soon after, and were waved away by Stan and his toothy grin.

"Have a safe trip!" he called cheerfully after them.

"You said it, bub," Cedric muttered, leading the way through the sliding glass doors and down the steps into the courtyard.

They walked in silence, lost in their own thoughts, until they'd passed through Bath Abbey Square and hit the main drag that led back to the train station.

"Didn't you say Ian and Aunt Gin and Uncle Draco were staying along Manvers Street somewhere?" Tristan asked, as the silence went from companionable to uncomfortable.

"Yeah." Cedric's eyes stayed straight ahead. "See that red door and flashy sign just up ahead? That's where they are."

"Poor mum – hope she got some sleep last night," Hayden murmured, more to himself than to them.

"Don't worry – Ian'll take care of her," Tristan said. "He can be useful when he puts his mind to it."

She smiled as she thought of her redheaded friend.

They finally made it to the coach depot that sat in front of the train station. Cedric's sharp eyes raked over the few busses parked there.

"There it is – and it looks empty," he said in relief. "Come on, let's go."

()

Hayden would never have admitted it, but he hated busses almost as much as his father did. He didn't feel sick, exactly, but he was sure he would if he looked anywhere but out the front window. Beautiful as sunrise-illuminated English countryside was, the road, which was most of the time only wide enough to admit a single Muggle car twisted and wove between cottages, woods, and pasture. Two hours of this – well, an hour and a half since there were few commuters at this time of day – and Hayden did become increasingly aware of his breakfast sloshing around in his stomach.

It was a very relieved party of three that climbed off the bus in Wells. Another few moments of searching found them the coach to Glastonbury. They hadn't been aboard two minutes before it pulled away.

Hayden felt a lurch in his stomach that had nothing to do with motion sickness. After all this planning, after everything they'd been through in the past couple of weeks, they were finally going to reach Glastonbury – finally going to see Dumbledore and sort this mess out!

"I can't believe we're nearly there," Tristy's awed voice echoed his thoughts from her seat across the aisle where she sat with her brother. "After all the crap we've been through."

"Just hope we find Dumbledore in time," Cedric said, more to himself than to them.

"Never mind Avalon," Hayden pointed out. Worrying about finding Dumbledore was a bit premature yet, he thought.

"'In time' for what, Ced?" Tristy asked curiously.

"Oh, we'll find it," Cedric assured him, answering Hayden's question and ignoring Tristy's.

"How do you know?" Hayden probed. The older boy did sound awfully sure of himself.

"Trust me," he said. "I know these things. I'm a tracker, remember?"

"Sure." But Hayden remained doubtful. A mythical land, long lost in legend, Avalon could take them weeks to find. It could have been hidden anywhere.

It might now exist.

Hayden cursed himself for getting so worked up. They hadn't even begun looking yet.

"Where will we start, Ced?" he asked. "Looking, I mean. What's in Glastonbury?"

"Well, there are three points of interest relevant to the Avalon myth," Cedric said slowly. "There's Glastonbury Abbey, which was once the second richest church in England and in which King Arthur and Queen Guinevere are supposedly buried. Then there's the Chalice Well, which is considered sacred by Muggles. It's like a garden," he explained, noticing their questioning faces, "that feeds off the water that comes from an underground pool called the Chalice Well. The legend is the Joseph of Arimathea – he's a bloke central to a Muggle religion called Christianity – he brought the Holy Grail – a goblet carrying to blood of the Christ who's supposedly the savior, according to Christian doctrine – to what was then Avalon and buried it at the source of the Chalice Well. See, the Holy Grail is supposed to have healing powers – the blood of the savior is supposed to heal blindness and stuff like that. So Muggles come to the Chalice Well gardens and drink the water, which oddly enough runs orange. Some Muggles say it's the Christ's blood that still runs through the water and gives it its healing properties. Some say it's just iron, because the rocks in the creek bed are stained orange. In any case, this seems a likely place to find an entrance to Avalon. It's going to be magically concealed either under Glastonbury or near it somewhere. The other place we'll want to look at is the tower on Glastonbury Tor. Supposedly, the source of the Chalice Well is underneath the Tor at its center. The tower itself is kind of mysterious. Muggles think it was built by an enemy of King Arthur to keep the captive Guinevere hidden from him, but others think it was built to protect a sacred healing site, because the faults created by the water running under it are supposed to be incredibly powerful and healing. Not a lot is_ known_ about it."

"_You _seem to know an awful lot about all this," Tristy said, eyeing him speculatively. "How'd you learn all this stuff, Ced?"

"I keep my ears open," he said casually. "And I've been reading up on the legends and stuff."

"However you look at it," Hayden said slowly, turning this new wealth of information over in his mind, "it sounds like the Chalice Well is the key to all this."

"Right," Cedric nodded. "Which is why we're going to check it out first. Dad and mum are going to take the Tor and Uncle Draco, Aunt Gin, and Ian are going to take the Abbey. The three of us poke around the Chalice Well a bit. But you're right, Den – I've got a hunch our answer is the well."

Hayden guessed it was another ten minutes before they reached Glastonbury. It was hard to tell where to get off. They'd passed a sign reading "Welcome to Glastonbury" above five miles ago and then proceeded to drive up onto a kind of plateau packed with Muggle houses. After driving around it for a time, Hayden was beginning to wonder if that was all there was to Glastonbury when the bus suddenly plunged down a steep, narrow road and came out paralleling the cliff face.

"I think this is it," Cedric murmured, pulling a cord by his chair. A pleasant _ding_ sounded just as the bus came within view of several tall structures to their right, which could only be commercial buildings.

The bus pulled off and let them out at the top of a gradually descending street.

"Okay, I think I know where we are," Cedric said slowly. Hayden had seen him pouring over a map the night before. "We want to parallel the town but not actually enter it. The Chalice Well should be along the main drag here."

As they headed off along the main street, Hayden was surprised to see Tristy trying to catch his eye.

"What?" he mumbled, as she dropped back to walk beside him.

"Dunno," she said. To his surprise, she was eyeing her brother with an anxious expression. "It's Ced – he, um . . . " she paused, looking pained, and then dropping her voice even lower, she whispered, "How does he know so much about this place?"

"Could he have been here before, maybe?" Hayden said.

"Why would we bother with guide books and the like if he'd already been here?" she retorted.

She had a point.

"He's been pretending to be just as clueless about it as the rest of us," he agreed slowly.

"Pretending? You think he knows more about what's going on than he's letting on?" Tristy hissed anxiously.

"No idea – he's _your_ brother," Hayden pointed out.

Tristy went quiet, but she still looked desperately worried. Hayden was beginning to feel that way himself as he followed in Cedric's long, purposeful steps. Had his cousin – blood brother, Hayden remembered idly – more knowledge than the rest of them? Or had he just read up on everything and was an exceptionally good tracker?

Hayden sighed. His brain was smarting and he didn't think he was getting himself anywhere. Never mind. Dumbledore would help them sort everything out in Avalon, Hayden reassured himself as he followed Tristy and Cedric down the now sunny sidewalk.

()

"I _knew_ sharing a twin bed was a bad idea," Harry muttered balefully, staring up at Blaise in mild annoyance.

"Not my fault you move around a lot when you sleep." Blaise grinned over the edge of the bed at Harry, who was gracelessly festooned in bed sheets and was sprawled across the floor of their room at the Muggle bed and breakfast. The grin became a smirk as Blaise offered him a hand up, which he accepted, rubbing his backside, which ached slightly more than the rest of him.

"I'll be stiff for hours," he complained.

"Again, not my fault," she said, curling up like a cat and staring up at him expectantly. "Nightmare?"

She said it casually, but Harry caught something more than idle curiosity in her expression.

"Nightmare," he confirmed, hobbling toward the loo. "Nothing new."

When he emerged five minutes later, Blaise was already pulling on Ginny's borrowed sweatshirt. She hadn't noticed him yet, so he took a moment to just look at her, marveling at what they'd become over the course of the trip.

_"Get off me, Potter!"_

_"Watch it, Potter – I don't want to have to burn these robes just because you touched them again."_

_"Sweet Merlin, she's a contrary little witch."_

_"Wouldn't you be if you had to walk around looking like you had dung under your nose all the time?"_

_"What the hell were you doing, Potter? I thought you were supposed to be the youngest Seeker in a hundred years – I've seen that fat ass Longbottom eat faster than you were running!"_

_"Don't ever scare me like that again, Zabini."_

_"One that involves you getting the dragon's attention while the rest of us make a run for it, no doubt. Potter, do you _want_ to die? One wonders sometimes, you know."_

_"Why? Would you miss me if I were gone, Zabini?"_

_"Zabini, you can seduce the local innocents later!"_

_"He – he kissed her!"_

"And what exactly are you smirking at, Potter?"

Harry blinked. Blaise stood staring questioningly at him and he realized he'd been completely lost in his reverie. He blushed, but answered bluntly.

"You, obviously."

"Something you want?" she asked, moving toward him and lifting a provocative eyebrow.

Harry gave a rueful chuckle deep in his throat. She had _no_ idea . . .

"Nothing we have time for right now," he said regretfully, nevertheless resting his hands on her waist when she'd swaggered within reach. "We've got a bus to catch."

Blaise sighed and rested her forehead against his for a long moment, her arms looping round his neck.

"This whole 'adventure', I think you called it, has been hell," she said at last. "But – " she paused, pulling back and staring almost shyly into his eyes – "there're a few things I don't regret about it."

Harry smiled warmly at her, leaning forward to give her a long, slow kiss.

"That makes two of us, Zabini," he murmured, moving from her lips to her cheek to her neck.

"I thought we didn't have time for this, Potter," she sighed, arching her neck into the kisses.

"We don't," he agreed, his arms tightening around her back as he pulled her more firmly against him. She felt – perfect. "But how long will it be before we're alone together again?"

"How true," she whispered, her hands coming from around his neck and working up the front of his shirt.

Things might have gotten considerably more out of hand, had there not been a quiet tap at the door. Both froze, sharing looks of mingled horror and regret as they pulled (with difficulty) away from their somewhat tangled embrace.

"Yes?" Harry called cautiously, smoothing his shirt.

"Sorry to disturb, Mr. Potter, but breakfast is being served if you're hungry."

Oh, praise Merlin, it was just Mr. Shears, Harry thought with infinite relief. He'd been expecting far less pleasant company. Not, he chided himself, that less pleasant company would have bothered to knock.

"Thanks," Blaise called. "We'll be down in a minute."

"We will?" Harry mouthed, shouldering his pack and staring curiously at her. He could hear Mr. Shears footsteps descending the stairs.

"If we don't eat now, when do you think we'll get another chance?" she retorted. "We may arrive at Avalon today, for all we know. And we have time. Ced and company are leaving first, if you recall."

She had a fair point, Harry thought. He was hungry – in more ways than one. Blaise must have noticed him staring again.

"Don't come near me, Potter," she warned playfully, throwing a pillow at him. "I won't let you off so easily next time."

Harry was torn between a groan and a snort. The noise that came out of his mouth was more of a grunt, and he hurriedly slipped passed Blaise through the door.

They ate quickly, careful not to speak too openly to their hosts and trying to keep unobtrusively quiet through their meal. They had finished before anyone else.

"That was fast," Mr. Shears said. "You're certainly eager to be off."

"We're heading for Ireland this morning," Harry lied easily. "Got to catch a train to Liverpool so we can make our boat to the Isle of Man on time."

Where had all that rubbish come from? he wondered, trying to keep a smile of mild satisfaction from his face. Well, that might throw Red Robes or whoever was looking for them a bit, should the news spread. They certainly weren't heading north.

"Well, glad you could stop by Bath," Mr. Shears said pleasantly. "Come back for a longer stay sometime."

"We will," Blasie said casually enough. "Bath's a nice place."

They settled their bill and departed, eager to make their nine o'clock bus.

"Hope Tristy and Ced and Hayden got off alright," Harry murmured and they retraced their steps through the Royal Victoria Park and wound their way up past the Royal Crescent.

"If anyone can make their part of a plan go off without a hitch, it's our ruddy son," Blaise muttered, sounded both proud and annoyed.

_Our son_.

Both paused at the sound of that, and oddly both blushed. Blaise had been right. In keeping with the timeline, she would have to have Cedric when she turned eighteen, which was within the year and a half or so.

"Do you – do you think it'll happen?" she asked haltingly, turning her head to glance at him with the first uncertain expression Harry had ever seen her wear.

"Dunno," he said, his forehead wrinkling in thought. He winced. "I love Cedric, I really do. But I'm just not feeling – well – " he paused again, felt the blush deepen a bit.

"Not feeling up to teen fatherhood?" Blaise said bluntly, although she, too, was still blushing. "I – um – I'm not sure I'm up for it, either – motherhood, I mean, not fatherhood."

Harry couldn't help grinning at her. She sounded so uncharacteristically innocent and nervous. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Never mind that now," he said. "We've got other things to worry about. And anyway, we've polluted the timeline so badly by now that I can't see any of this going on the way it is now."

Blaise was silent until they'd passed through the Circus, a circular series of fancy buildings, and passed onto Gay Street.

"Suppose it's us meddling with time that causes all this?" she said, her voice low. "Suppose if we_ hadn't_ come none of this would have happened? I mean, before this you and I hadn't said two things to each other. Now we're – _this_." She indicated their clasped hands.

Harry swore. That thought, amazingly, had never even occurred to him. What else might not have happened if they _hadn't_ come forward in time? Just as quickly, he shook off the thought.

"No – innocent until proven guilty." He murmured Dumbledore's words like a mantra. "Anyway, Red Robes has a hand in this himself. Whatever's happening he's also to blame for messing about."

"Of course – Harry, stop blaming yourself!" Blaise said sharply. "I didn't mean this was your fault. Weasley, Draco, and I were foolish enough to follow you, so you're not to blame for us. Anyway, what's done is done, and our job is to find Dumbledore and see if we can fix it. Let's focus on that, not who's to blame."

"Right." Harry forced his mind away from his gnawing guilt at have betrayed Dumbledore's orders not to meddle and onto the task at hand. Saving his daughter.

()

"How's he doing?" Ginny asked, hoping she didn't sound too anxious.

It didn't matter how casually she said it, Dorian was still going to take whatever she said regarding Draco completely the wrong way.

"He's fine this morning and cursing the air blue," the redhead told her with an impish grin. "He's not fond of his current diet, I can tell you that right now."

Keeping Draco to his strict diet of toast, soup crackers, water, and juice, Ginny and Dorian had left the dingy youth hostel and were having a rather fancy breakfast in Bath's elegant Pump Room. Neither of them had any intention of telling Draco this, or he'd have thrown the mother of all fits. But after what she and Dorian had had to endure the night before, Ginny had decided they deserved a reward.

"Well, at least whatever he had was temporary and not contagious," Ginny muttered. "We're so close to Glastonbury – I'd hate to have to stop again because you or I was ill."

"Too true." Dorian took a hefty bite of scone and cream, a large gulp of tea, and grinned.

"But then, if you get sick, Uncle can return the favor and baby you for a night," he pointed out innocently.

Ginny blushed, but had to agree that Draco definitely owed her. She couldn't believe their luck – his and Dorian's assigned dorm had been totally empty for the rest of the night, so she'd been able to be in there most of the night without either getting kicked out or stared at. Actually, she _didn't_ believe their luck – she had a feeling Dorian had bribed one of the Muggles downstairs to rearrange the room assignments so the dorm would be empty.

In any event, Draco had settled into a comfortable routine of dry retching at every half-hour from about ten-thirty to two the night before. When he hadn't had any complaints between two and four, Ginny had sighed in relief and realized the episode was over. He'd been oddly quiet through the whole ordeal, and even allowed Ginny to replace his frequent dashes for the loo with a bucket. That had been particularly disgusting, since Ginny couldn't use magic to clean it and had had to make trips to the loo herself to dump the contents of the bucket. By midnight, there were no contents, so Ginny had sat quietly, holding the bucket for him just in case, and holding his hand.

She could have just left him to it, but she didn't. There was something so pitiful about the whole thing, and Ginny knew that she herself hated to be left along while sick. She wondered if Draco had ever had anyone to be with him while he was ill when he was a child. Well, he bloody well wasn't going to be alone this time.

Dorian had wisely gone to a bunk on the other side of the dorm and dropped off to sleep, pretending not to notice his weak uncle. Ginny babying Draco was one thing, but both Weasleys knew that the irascible blond would take exception to any 'manly intervention.' Not that anyone referring to Dorian would think to use the word 'manly', but it was the idea that would sting.

It was around three that Draco finally spoke to her.

"Shove off, Weasel, I'm all right," he muttered, sounded both exhausted and embarrassed.

"Oh, that's nice," she murmured in return, a glint of amusement in her eye. "And don't call me Weasel."

"Fine, _Virginia_," he said, opening eyes that were twinkling likewise. "Get off to bed and stop fussing. It won't help if I have to carry you around tomorrow."

"We're the last group to leave. I can sleep till ten and we'll still make our bus," she reassured him, smoothing the coverlet unnecessarily.

He sighed resignedly and closed his eyes. No thanks, no anything. Not that Ginny minded. She wasn't doing this for thanks, she was doing it out of compassion.

_Or something else ending in passion,_ came an annoying voice in her head. _You're just obsessed, that's all_.

I'm just doing what's right, another part of her brain chimed in.

_Sure you are – but you're also mad about him_.

How true.

Draco's eyes had snapped open suddenly, making Ginny jump. They glittered in the light of the streetlamp outside, turning them an even more steely grey than usual.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded, almost plaintively. "I treat you like dirt, all the time – and you treat me like I'm – like I'm – "

"Like you're human, and not a nasty little ferret," Ginny finished for him, with an ironic smile. He scowled, but gave a little nod.

"Dunno," she said, which wasn't completely true. "I guess I just can't help myself. You act all self assured and proud of yourself and your family. But really – " and here she smiled. "Really, I don't know what you are. Sometimes you're a terrible prick who's horrible to everyone. And sometimes," she paused again, searching for the right words. Inexplicably, his older self came into her mind, and she smiled. "Sometimes, you're this handsome man who admits he's an arse, looks scarily like his father, kids with his son, and kisses my hand." She stared at him, blushing. "It's like you're two different people."

Draco stared hard at her, eyes still glittering strangely in the light.

"Aunt? We've got trouble," came Dorian's voice through her reverie. Ginny felt her consciousness snap back to the Pump Room like a rubber band. She jumped, and felt her heart rate pick up considerably.

"What sort of trouble?" she demanded. Oh, Merlin, it was Red Robes for sure. Seated with her back to the door she couldn't see who Dorian was watching. For once, he was exercising caution, flickering his eyes every so often toward the door.

"It's bad – oh, but not _that_ bad. Merlin, I'm sorry, Aunt," Dorian said in a rush. "I didn't mean to frighten you! It's just – "

"Ginny Weasley," came a curt voice from behind her. "You left me alone in a sleazy dorm with sugar water, crackers that tasted like sand, and a banana while you came down here to the nicest tea room in Britain to eat scones with your pillock nephew."

"_Our_ pillock nephew," Ginny retorted, rolling her eyes as Draco took a seat at their table, glaring daggers at her. "How'd you know we were here?"

"Asked the Muggle at the desk if you'd gone out and he said you were looking for somewhere 'nice' to eat," Draco told her, reaching for her scone. She slapped his hand away.

"You're not supposed to be eating anything like this right now," she admonished, totally ignoring his deadly expression. "The last thing we need is you getting sick again, especially since we have _two hours and twenty minutes_ of bus riding ahead of us."

"Like I give a – " but the implied warning had the desired effect and he drew his hand back, muttering rudely under his breath.

Ginny and Dorian decided not to tempt his appetite or temper further by remaining in the elegant hall, but instead hurriedly finished their breakfasts and returned with the testy blonde to the hostel to collect their belongings.

"You're starting off early," Jake, the Muggle, said good-naturedly. "You sure he's up for it?" He nodded toward Draco.

Feeling now was not the time to strain the Slytherin's temper, Ginny jumped in.

"Just food poisoning, he's fine."

"Like we said, we're on an adventure," Dorian added. "We're bored with Bath so we thought of heading for – ah, Liverpool." Draco kicked Ginny's foot, probably so she'd stop gaping at her nephew like a beached whale. _Liverpool_?

"Right," Jake said. "Liverpool's a real laugh riot. Well, have fun. Be careful what you eat up there in highflying, action packed Liverpool."

He seemed to have taken Dorian's slight of Bath as a personal insult. Ginny snorted. _Boys_.

As they tramped out of the room, Jake called, "Look, skip Liverpool. Try for Manchester. Wicked football teams and the best night clubs."

Ginny waved back and ushered the boys out in front of her.

"Football?" Draco said, the second the violently red door had closed on them. "What's – "

"It's this lame-as-arse Muggle sport," Dorian explained, hefting his backpack and leading the way down Manvers Street toward the bus depot. "There's one ball, no brooms, and _no co-ed teams_."

"You're kidding!"

Ginny couldn't quite believe that this line of conversation kept them entertained all the way to the bus depot, but Draco enjoyed being contemptuous and most wizards or witches who weren't Muggleborn were disgusted with football, as compared with Quidditch.

Ginny tuned them out once they'd boarded the correct coach. She stared out the window at the bright, cheerful day, the lovely rolling hills, and thatch-roofed houses of the countryside they passed through. The ride was a long one, but she looked up often enough to note that Draco wasn't looking even remotely sick, even on the narrowest, twistiest country roads. For this, she was deeply grateful. One night had been bad enough. Now that they were (supposedly) nearing the end of their journey, any changes in schedule might ruin everything.

"You look out that window long enough and you'll be sicker than I was, Weasley," came Draco's (currently bored) voice over the rattle of the bus. He was seated beside her, as the bus was crowded. Ginny had heard him swear more than once that he was _not_ sitting next to a Muggle if his life depended on it.

"I won't," she assured him. "It's next to impossible that I'll get sick from a scone and a cup of tea."

Her stomach was doing funny things, however, in response to his leg being pressed up against hers. She was glad Dorian was seated in front of her and was currently occupied in flirting with a passably attractive Muggle in a school uniform who had seated herself beside him.

"Hope the kid doesn't say anything stupid," Draco muttered, evidently following her gaze.

"He may be careless, but he's not stupid, Draco," she pointed out. This time she only sighed and turned a bit pink when she realized she'd called him by his first name. There was no help for it – she was falling _hard_.

"Are you kidding?" For once, Draco seemed disinclined to comment snidely on her slip of the tongue. "He's related to Ron Weasley, world's greatest prat and dimwit."

Ginny slugged him in the arm, glaring ferociously.

"Don't you insult my brother when he's not here to pound your face, Malfoy!" she hissed dangerously.

"Ow! Stroppy cow!" Draco muttered, rubbing his arm. "What do you care what I say about him?"

"He's my brother and I love him," she said simply. She paused, thinking of Ron and her other brothers. She wondered briefly what Bill looked like – or Charlie or the twins. Ron had looked like Charlie had at that age. An overgrown kid. She smiled at that. Were the twins married? she wondered suddenly. What was Percy up to? For all she knew he could be Minister of Magic.

Or dead.

Ginny gave a physical start as the thought occurred to her. Her family had dangerous professions and all had lived through a time of great turmoil. It would, Ginny thought (horrified), not be so surprising if not all of them had made it through.

Leaning forward with the intention of asking Dorian about his uncles, her finger paused just over his shoulder. Dorian, still chatting up the blonde schoolgirl, didn't notice. After a moment's reflection, Ginny drew her hand back. On second thought, there was a good bet they'd be out of this timeline by this evening. And although she'd been curious about many things in her future, she had just touched upon the one that she least wanted to know.

"What was that about?" Draco asked, eyeing her shrewdly.

"Nothing," she said. "I just – though better of something." She smiled ruefully. "I have a dreadful time controlling my curiosity sometimes."

"It's that and your bloody pride that got you into Gryffindor," he pointed out.

She turned to offer an angry retort about the oh-so-noble qualities that made him top-candidate for Slytherin – and paused. He was smirking and obviously looking to provoke her, but there was more there, too. It had almost sounded like a question.

"As opposed to your cleverness and maliciousness that landed you as king of Slytherin?" she retorted, trying to inflect the same question into her own tone. When he didn't immediately respond, she added, "Labels are really very easy things, aren't they?"

"What do you mean?" He looked genuinely curious now, and as that wasn't a look he wore often, Ginny tried to encourage its continuance for the present by elaboration.

"Well, at Hogwarts, it's the old one-liner – oh, don't worry, he's only a Slytherin, or oh, we're only playing Hufflepuff, or well I would ask Padma Patil to the Yule Ball but she's a Ravenclaw, you know so she'll probably be in the library instead." Ginny shrugged. "I guess it was watching Hayden and Tristy going on that got me thinking about the House thing. I mean, our son, Draco – he's in Gryffindor, and yet he acts more like a stereotypical Slytherin than Tristy ever has. She shows loyalty, he shows coldness, she shows curiosity, he shows cleverness. They could as easily swap Houses, you know."

"Well, you've got to cut Hayden a break," Draco pointed out, although to her surprise he seemed to be turning the thought over in his mind. "He comes from two people who are so totally different – I mean, hell, Gin!" He gestured wildly at her. "About the only thing we have in common is that we're both devastatingly gorgeous twenty-three years from our own time."

"And we're modest, too," Ginny muttered.

"I'm serious!" Draco snapped. "As part Weasley – " he shuddered at the thought, which was rather insulting – "he was bound to land in Gryffindor. Who in your family hasn't? But as part Malfoy – well, we've got strong personalities, haven't we?"

Ginny snorted. Draco quirked an eyebrow.

"Something funny?" he asked.

"I can't understand how you're so fully aware of your own persona and you're completely okay with it," she blurted out.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"You've said it yourself, Draco – you're an extreme arse!" she told him.

"Sure, I am," he said with a shrug. "And Potter's reckless. And Blaise seduces innocent schoolboys. And you're hopelessly naïve." He paused, staring hard at her. "Some things never change, Weasley. I accept who I am, the good and the not-so-good. Believe it or not, some people think I'm all right. Just like people think Potter's all right and Blaise is all right. Merlin, people are mad about you!"

And why shouldn't they be? Ginny thought indignantly. There wasn't anything wrong with her! Well, she had her quirks, but so did everyone.

She stopped suddenly as she suddenly realized what he meant. The cogs in her brain slowed as she pondered this new idea. She had always accepted herself as she was because she knew that bad qualities accompanied good. Why should it have been any different with Draco? Or Blaise? Or Harry, even? Even Draco had good qualities. He'd shown many of them during this trip. Thankfulness, uncertainty, remorse – and those had only appeared during the last twenty-four hours!

Entirely preoccupied with this idea, Ginny didn't speak again until they got off the bus in Glastonbury (having nearly got off too early before, Ginny was grateful that Draco and Dorian had been paying attention).

"So," Dorian said, clapping his hands eagerly together, "which way to this Abbey thing Ced wants us to look at?"

()

"I hope," Blaise panted, "that this climb is worth it."

"You and me both," Harry said.

They'd found Glastonbury Tor quite easily, as it was along the main road just outside of town and there were signs liberally posted as they drew near. The lovely, pale blue sky that Harry had been giving thanks for earlier he was now learning to loath. Only the first part of the path up the Tor had been shaded by a heavy overhang of tall, ancient trees. Now, however, they were paralleling a field of cattle and took comfort in no shrubbery or brush of any kind. The sun beat down on them as they climb an old stile and followed several tourists up the path.

"It's impressive, you've got to give it that," Blaise pointed out breathlessly, coming to a halt below a set of stairs built into the face of the grassy hill. It _was_ pretty spectacular. The tower sat perched at the very top of the grassy slopes that spilled away on either side, creating a hill almost triangular in shape. Just over the tower sat the moon, much more defined than Blaise had ever seen it before during the daytime. The Tor itself, Cedric had told Blaise a few days ago, was only the hill, referring in Celtic to its triangular shape. The tower was an entity unto itself, and according to Cedric there was a lot of controversy surrounding it.

"According to this," Harry said, squinting down at a brochure some Muggle had offered him at the bottom, "there's a load of controversy surrounding the tower. The official, Muggle version is that it's all the remains of a church – the church of St. Michael. There're myths and legends about King Arthur's wife, Guinevere, being kidnapped and held here by King Melwas. . . and then there's a bunch of stuff about the Tor itself . . . "

"Come on, genius," Blaise sighed, knowing that if she didn't distract him he'd probably stand there all day reading the bloody brochure. "Let's go have a look."

It was a 160-meter climb to the top over a long dirt path, which with a few aberrations went straight up the Tor. The view was spectacular. On one side lay Glastonbury proper, a collection of village houses and small buildings, as well as a couple of churches (big on religion here, Blaise thought), and on the other lay the panorama of Somerset County, oddly obscured by a hazy, gray mist.

When they at last reached the top, it was to discover that there was a very healthy wind pummeling the place, which was a relief after the dusty climb. Several tourists were milling about, but otherwise the tower looked deserted.

"Shall we?" Harry called over the wind, gesturing to the tower.

It came as something of a shock when they entered to discover that the tower comprised little more than a single area no larger than a room, and had no roof. One door led in one side and another led out opposite side.

"Fancy," Blaise said, staring around.

"Not a lot here," Harry agreed, meandering over to a wall and placing a hand on the cool stone. Blaise wandered out through the other door. The view on the other side of the tower was similarly spectacular, although the strange, grayish haze again obscured it. She wondered idly if it was fog or that vapor caused by Muggle pollution.

"Weird, isn't it?" Harry's deep voice came from just behind her.

"What's weird?" Blaise asked.

"This is probably exactly what it looks like in our time," he said softly.

_Our time_.

Blaise felt her insides lurch as she suddenly recollected that she was staring at a landscape that was twenty-three years older than she was. It was unnerving. She felt totally out of place.

"Unsettling, more like," she mumbled to herself. She barely noticed Harry's arm wrap around her waist and pull her to his side. For another heartbeat, Blaise gazed unseeingly out over the vast landscape below them.

"It's funny," Harry said suddenly. "According to Muggle history, all that farmland and everything below us used to be a seabed."

"What?" Blaise was brought back to the present – not _her_ present, she reminded herself uneasily – but the present nonetheless.

"You can see the lines, actually," Harry went on, pointing down the opposite side of the Tor. "If you look all the way down to about ten feet above the base of the Tor you can almost see how the water might have washed against its sides. And think about its shape. See how some parts of it look almost terraced? And look at the fields. According to this," he gestured to his brochure, "when people began to settle here they found the earth incredibly fertile."

He opened the pamphlet and began reading again.

"Yup, here it is – 'Two thousand year ago, the sea washed right up to the base of the Tor, being succeeded gradually by a vast lake.'"

"Huh." This new knowledge stirred something in Blaise – like an important piece of a puzzle that didn't quite fit. "Well, let's poke around some more and then give Ced or Draco a buzz and see if they've found anything."

()

"Dunno what they expect us to find," Draco groused, the beauty of the place completely lost on him as he strolled impatiently among the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey.

"Why can't you just enjoy it?" Ginny demanded from beside him, her bright eyes taking in the immense pillars of stone with wonder and delight. "This is massive. I can't believe Muggles built this without magic! It must have been spectacular when it was still standing."

It _was_ massive, Draco had to give her that. There were two main portions still standing, in addition to the Abbot's Kitchen, which stood passed a neat arrangement of stacked stones that supposedly indicated the location of parts of the church that had been totally destroyed.

"Supposedly it was destroyed by a fire in 1184," Ginny said, her nose buried in a booklet she'd bought at the ticket booth. Their tour book hadn't been all that informative. "That seems odd, though. How could a stone church have burnt down?"

Draco admitted that it was a bit odd, but wasn't interested enough to give it much thought.

"So," Dorian, on Ginny's other side, said eagerly, "what're we looking for?"

"No idea," Ginny and Draco said simultaneously. Ginny grinned at him and Draco fought a losing battle not to return it, resulting in a rather crooked smile on his part. He cursed himself several times for allowing her so much power over him.

"Well, what does that book thing stay about King Arthur – Merlin, even?" Dorian asked, clapping his hands together excitedly. "Since it's the Isle of Avalon we're looking for, and Muggles consider that a myth – "

"Most wizards consider it a myth," Draco muttered.

" – then it makes sense that their Arthurian legend is going to tell us more than their Muggle mumbo jumbo," Dorian finished loudly. Fortunately, there were only a few other visitors and they were too far off to hear Dorian's careless speech.

"Well . . . " Ginny said slowly, studying her book. "The obvious place to start is the burial sites of Guinevere and Arthur." Her nose still very close to the page she was reading, Ginny wandered off between the two massive configurations of stone that had surely once been walls.

"This was once the choral chamber," Ginny informed them vaguely. "At the end of these stone pillars here – " she indicated the encasing walls of stone that made up walls to their left and right, " – was the high altar. And here," pausing before a simple, square enclosure of cement upon the ground, "is the burial site."

The three of them stared at it. Considering that it was supposedly the burial site of one of the greatest kings of all time, Draco thought it was rather pathetic. The surrounding cement enclosure, which stood no more than an inch off the well-kept lawn, was commemorated only by a sign that read:

_"Site of King Arthur's tomb. In the year 1191 the bodies of King Arthur and his queen were said to have been found on the south side of the Lady Chapel."_

"That's that structure back there," Ginny told him, pointing back the way they had come at the front part the church, much of which was still commemorated in stone. Draco turned back to the tomb.

_"On 19th April 1278 their remains were removed in the presence of King Edward 1 and Queen Eleanor to a black marble tomb on this site. This tomb survived until the dissolution of the Abbey in 1539."_

"That's the new tomb – over there." Ginny gestured to a slab of flat, black, glittering marble that lay twenty feet behind them.

"Fat lot of good that did us," Draco muttered, turning away and shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun on the smooth, black tomb.

"It does us loads of good," Ginny retorted. "We know Arthur and Guinevere were here. And according to our history books, Merlin saw Arthur off on his quest for the Holy Grail, supposedly hidden in Avalon. That's proof that we're on the right path."

Draco gave her annoyed look as a mask for some deep thought and wandered off back toward the remains of the Nave and Lady Chapel. While wizard history spoke of Arthur and his courageous deeds, it dealt little with Muggle-related aspects of it. It listed Arthur's dealings with Merlin, but as Merlin was one of the few wizards to interact with Muggles at that time, history related to Arthur and Avalon were limited to events involving Merlin.

"Why he would hang around Muggles in the first place . . . " Draco muttered, steering clear of a group of teenage, school uniform toting Muggle girls, all of whom openly leered at him.

"Ever feel like you're in a petting zoo?" Ginny asked from his other side, grinning mischievously and linking her arm through his. Draco saw the expressions of the schoolgirls turn sour and couldn't quite stop a snort of amusement from escaping his lips as Ginny stuck her tongue out at the girls behind his back.

"Mature, Weasley."

"I do try."

They had come upon the remains of the Nave. Though the grand stone archway and parts of the surrounding walls still stood, there was no ceiling to block the radiant beams of sunlight cascading down into the lower level of the ruin, which was supposedly the Lady Chapel. Ginny skipped a little ahead of him and descended a set of stairs that had obviously been built into the remains fairly recently. The overhead walkway on which Draco now stood alone was the only overhang above the Lady Chapel and he could see Ginny crossing to what looked like an alter of stone against the wall closest to the door they'd just come through.

"Anything interesting?" Draco called casually, this voice echoing off the stone.

"Not to you, probably," came the dry response. "But this is a beautiful little spot I've found."

Only mildly curious, Draco descended into the lower level. The alter Ginny had found was actually snuggled away under the overhang of the upper level's surrounding walkway. There was a hole cut into the wall that seemed to act as a kind of window. Around the window, little vines and flowers had grown, seemingly out of the stone itself and on the altar sat veritable mound of fresh, white wild flowers.

"Daily offerings from the people of Glastonbury, according to my book here," Ginny said, noticing him eyeing the flowers. "And I bet when the sun sets the light through this window will fall exactly over this altar thing." She gazed out of the stone cutting, which wasn't more than a foot above the grassy lawn outside and offered a clear view of the Abbot's Kitchen. Draco stepped up next to her to look and saw Dorian Weasley plodding toward the Nave from the Kitchen.

"I've found the most brilliant thing," the redhead called, spotting their faces through the window and hurrying over. "It's in the Kitchen. Come have a look."

The window was large enough for Ginny and Draco to crawl through, although Ginny was short enough to need a leg up. She tumbled onto the grass, accepted a hand up from her nephew, and then offered her own to Draco, who used it and then for unknown reasons kept hold of it as the three started back the direction Dorian had come. Ginny made no objection to Draco's possessive gesture, which rather surprised him.

The Abbot's Kitchen, being unconnected to the rest of the abbey, appeared to have been untouched by the fire that had consumed the church. It was the only structure that stood wholly intact, probably unchanged from the day it was built. It was a round, stone building that began in the shape of a large igloo at the bottom and then terraced off into a tower about twenty feet from its base.

Dorian led them through the only apparent set of doors, which had been propped invitingly open. Several other visitors were milling about the room, although why, Draco had no idea. The Muggle curator had decorated the place with tables covered in what appeared to be plastic replicas of foods prepared by the abbot and the herbs used for medicinal purposes.

"Over here," Dorian said, leading them off to one side.

He was indicating what Draco at first assumed was a round table of thick wood standing on a single, thick leg. But the top of the table appeared clear.

"It's a mirror," Dorian explained eagerly. "It's so visitors can look at the ceiling or something. At least, that's what the sign says."

"This is what you dragged us over here to look at?" Draco demanded in annoyance. Huh – Muggles! They'd made a table with a mirror – "it rotates!" Dorian informed then, leaning on an edge so the table rolled slightly and reflected a different part of the ceiling – so that they could look at some scaffolding and admire the elaborate spider webs quilting the interior of the tower without straining their necks.

Well, Dorian was a Weasley and Draco supposed this mirror thing qualified as a shiny object . . .

"It might be important!" Dorian insisted. "Have a look at this."

He pushed on a corner of the mirror and it rotated to reflect a corner of the ceiling directly across from the door. For a moment, Draco couldn't tell what the kid was all excited about. Then –

"Are those – engravings up there – or just blemishes in the wood?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, they're engravings," Dorian assured them eagerly. Dropping his voice conspiratorially, he leaned forward over the mirror, gesturing for them both to do the same. "I recognize them from the god-awful 'Unfogging the Future' book we have to have for Professor Trelawney's class. They were definitely made by a wizard."

Draco squinted. Looking closely he _could_ see the resemblance to the tiny shapes he'd studied in Divination.

"What shapes are they, Ian? Can you tell?" Ginny asked, leaning closer to the glass and bumping her sheared head against Draco's. "Oops, sorry, Draco."

"I – I think the first one is a – a half sun," Dorian murmured, shaggy head right beside Ginny's. "That's the symbol for ending – kind of like a sunset."

"Okay – and the next one . . . it kind of looks like a – a staff – no, a scepter," Ginny said, pushing her fringe impatiently out of her eyes. "That's the symbol for power or leadership."

"The third's a symbol for prayer," Draco mumbled. "See the two hands clasped? It symbolizes holy thought – or a place of holy thought."

"What's the fourth one?" Ginny asked. "I can't make it out."

"It – looks – like – a urn, maybe?" Dorian suggested tentatively.

"No, it's got a stem," Draco said, pointing. "Sticking up from the top."

They all studied the symbol for a moment.

"No, hold on, we're looking at it upside down," Ginny said, tilting her head. "It's more like a goblet. Doesn't look familiar."

"So what does it mean?" Dorian asked, pulling back and staring at his aunt and uncle. "A half-sun, a scepter, a prayer symbol, and a goblet."

"Do you suppose the Muggles know what it means?" Dorian asked, glancing around at the few who were still milling about the room.

"It's not in the brochure about the Kitchen," Ginny said, examining it closely.

"It wasn't on the sign thing over here, either," Dorian pointed out.

"Maybe the Muggles are too dull-witted to see it," Draco suggested smarmily.

"Let's find out," Dorian suggested, strolling determinately across the room and accosting one of the schoolgirls who'd strayed in after them in the following manner.

"I say, love, could you help us out over here?"

The girl looked up from the sign she was examining, blushed furiously at the sight of Dorian grinning disarmingly at her, and giggled.

"Er – ah," she said.

Dorian took this as an affirmative and took her hand, leading her to the mirror.

"Have a look over here," he said, pointing to the corner with the etchings. "My aunt here – " indicating Ginny, who flinched at his carelessness in revealing their unlikely relationship, " – insists that these pock marks in the ceiling have some shape. My uncle and I disagree. Can you see anything?"

The Muggle stared incredulously at Ginny and Draco, obviously thinking Dorian's claims of his relationship to them more than a little odd. After a moment, however, she turned slowly back to the mirror and gazed into the corner Dorian indicated. She blinked once, and leaned forward.

"It _is _awfully bumpy up there," she agreed after a moment. "But – no, I think those are just spots from the wood decomposing. This building's been here since the original church went up, you know. See, those look like water damage – " she indicated two spots that were gouged deeply into the center of the goblet, " – and this might have been – er, something else."

"But they don't look regular?" Ginny asked. "Like – like shapes?"

"No way," the girl said. "Well, if you squint at this one – " indicating another shapeless spot a few inches away from any of the shapes, " – it looks a little like a sheep – "

"Right," Dorian said triumphantly. "Thanks. You've been brilliant."

"Oh." The girl looked rather deflated. "That's it, then?"

"Yup – thanks," Dorian said again, leading her back to the marker she'd been reading. He seemed to notice her disappointed expression, because as he deposited her he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"Cheers," he said with an impish grin.

Draco snorted. The girl looked at though she might faint and the instant Dorian turned away, the girl's three friends, who'd been loitering about as well, all slunk up beside her and began squealing and giggling.

"Ian, don't be such a flirt!" Ginny hissed. "Now they probably won't let you out of their sight."

"Don't worry so much, Aunt," Dorian said. "They're too busy staring at me to pay attention to what we're actually doing. Speaking of, do you reckon she could see them?"

"No way," Draco snorted. "She looked right through the goblet at that blemish in the middle. And those praying hands are way to intricate to miss."

"You think they're magical?" Ginny said in an almost whisper. "I mean, like only a witch or wizard could see them?"

"Seems likely," Draco said. "Anything that seems magical around here might have a connection to Avalon, which if it exists is likely to be a totally magical place. No Muggle is going to be able to find it or anything connected with it."

The three stared at the symbols for a few moments.

"So – assuming these symbols are in some way linked to Avalon," Ginny said slowly. "Are they meant to be taken figuratively, like in Divination? Or literally – like the goblet means a goblet and the praying hands mean a prayer and the scepter means a power?"

"Dunno," Dorian said. "Let's start with the first one."

"I don't think a half sun is meant to be taken figuratively," Draco said. "Doesn't make any sense."

"It would mean sunset, then," Dorian said. "Or rather, a 'burgeoning of misfortune,' as Trelawney calls it."

"So something happens at sunset," Ginny hazarded. "Something unlucky?"

"No – skip the metaphorical crap."

"Something at sunset, then."

"It's a start," Draco shrugged. He couldn't help a small smile from creeping onto his lips. He'd always hated Divination, but using his limited knowledge of it to problem solve was certainly less boring than wandering the grounds looking at ruins.

"What's the scepter mean, then?" Ginny asked, eyeing the second symbol.

"Usually it refers to power or royalty," Dorian said.

"Which one?" Ginny murmured.

"Hello?" Draco rolled his eyes. "Whose tomb were we just looking at?"

"Of course – King Arthur." Dorian nodded energetically.

"Or Guinevere," Ginny put in rather indignantly. "Chauvinist pigs!"

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch," Draco advised, returning his gaze to the symbols. "So – the hands."

"That's obvious, too," Ginny said, still clearly nettled. "We're in the middle of the remains of a church. It probably refers to worship that took place – still takes place here."

"And the goblet?" Dorian said, indicating the last symbol.

"Dunno." Ginny stared at it. They all did, but for some reason they all seemed to be drawing similar blanks.

"So we know that something happens at sunset that might be involved with royalty and prayer," Dorian recapped, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Maybe the king nips out for an evening's meditation," Draco suggested dryly.

"That's helpful, Draco," Ginny said, snorting. Draco noticed that that was the second time she'd used his first name without flinching, blushing, or stuttering.

They stood for a few minutes more in silent contemplation.

"What if . . . ?" Dorian paused, his eyes on the symbols.

"What if . . . ?" Ginny prompted.

"Well, the king's tomb is just across the way there and you two were just looking at an altar that's obviously used for religious purposes," Dorian said slowly. "If the half sun indicates location, then the other symbols might as well."

"You mean like, at sunset something will happen at the king's tomb and the altar?" Ginny asked, starting to sound hopeful. "And the goblet?"

"Hang on." Draco felt his brain give a start as the pieces began to fall into place. "What does everything in this ruddy down seem to revolve around?"

"King Arthur?"

"Churches?"

"Avalon!" Draco snapped, annoyed with their sluggishness. "King Arthur went in search of Avalon why?"

"To find the Holy Grail," Ginny said impatiently. Then she stopped, her eyes widening. Slowly, her eyes returned to the goblet symbol. "You're saying that's a Grail?"

"What else could it be?" Draco demanded.

"At sunset," Dorian said for the umpteenth time, "something happens at the tomb and the altar . . . that will lead us to the Holy Grail . . . "

"That will lead us to Avalon," Ginny finished. She paused. "Bit of a long shot, though, isn't it?" she added uncertainly.

"Best shot we've got," Draco pointed out.

"So what should we do?" Dorian asked, staring back and forth between aunt and uncle.

"Easy," Draco said. "One of us waits by the tomb and the other two by the altar."

"What about the mirror?" Ginny asked, glancing back down at it.

"What about it?" Draco retorted.

"Well – " Ginny gazed at it, her eyes unfocused. "Suppose something happens to it? I mean, the clues were here, weren't they? The mirror might be connected as well."

"Maybe." Dorian looked unsure. "But suppose nothing does? That leaves one of us stranded here."

"Provided anything happens at all," Ginny returned. "I know it's another long shot, but something tells me someone needs to be here. I'll stay – it was my idea."

"There might be a problem, though," Dorian said. "Won't the three of us hanging around all afternoon look a tad suspicious? Sunset's not for several hours yet."

"And shouldn't the others be told?" Ginny added, looking worried.

"And I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry, Ian," Ginny said, cracking a small grin and giving his arm a squeeze. "Come to that, I'm a bit peckish myself."

"Yeah – and some of us've only had crackers and juice today," Draco added testily.

"So there's a tea room right across from here," Ginny said. "We can head over there, get – er, dinner, I guess – and give Ced and Harry a call."

"Good idea, Aunt," Dorian said, nodding approvingly and patting the arm still linked through his.

"Course it's a good idea!" Ginny said loudly.

Draco followed them out, shaking his fair head at the two redheads in front of him.

What a trip!

()

"Wow!" Tristan breathed, gazing up at the arbor-covered walkway that was blooming with all sorts of lovely flowers and vines. She followed slowly along behind her brother, who paced briskly up the cobblestone path to the entrance of the Chalice Well.

"Nice place," Hayden commented – rather crassly, Tristan thought, annoyed.

"'Nice place', indeed," Tristan muttered, shaking her head. "You're about as sensitive as a brick wall, Hayden Malfoy."

"And how," he agreed, with a smirk.

_Oh, right. We've not had enough animosity in our day yet, _Tristan thought sourly. _He's just keeping us up to scratch_.

"I'm going to get married here," she said abruptly, for no reason at all.

"Who'd want to marry _you_?" her brother called back to her, cracking a crooked, teasing smile.

"Who do you think, genius?" she retorted, throwing a meaningful look at Hayden. When he opened his mouth to retaliate, she added coyly, "Although I think _Ian_ has allergies so perhaps he'd prefer something indoors."

And away she sauntered into the gardens, delighted at having exasperated both of her male companions in one fell swoop.

The gardens really were magnificent. As Tristan traversed one stone path, then another, she felt more and more convinced that she wanted to stay forever. Blooming bushes bordering the walkways, secluded benches covered in canopies of wisteria, and the single creek that ran through the grounds made the whole area feel like an entirely different planet – almost removed from reality.

"This way, Tris," her brother said, taking her elbow and leading her by a set of steps that led down to a small pool at the bottom of a small waterfall.

"Can't I – ?"

"No."

"Why - ?"

"There'll be time for poking about after we've found the well source."

**"Why do we need to find the well's source?" Hayden asked curiously, jogging along behind them.**

"Because supposedly the Holy Grail is buried there and if we find it or indications that it's near, we've got the key to Avalon."

"But isn't the Grail supposed to be hidden _inside _Avalon?" Tristan asked.

"Precisely."

They followed the main trail up through still more impressively exotic greenery until they saw it dead-end at a massive weeping willow, which hung protectively over what appeared to be a round door built into the ground.

"This is it!" Cedric said, looking excited. "This is the source of the well."

It was set into a raised platform about eight inches above the path and was nearly completely shaded. The round door had an intricate, black symbol etched in its tawny wooden surface.

"Is that Celtic?" Hayden asked.

"It's the Vesica Piscis," Cedric told him, drawing level with the door and mounting the steps to the hole in the ground. "The interlocking circles represent the harmony of spirit and matter that these gardens were created to symbolize. The arrow through the middle represents the perfect symmetry of these circles."

Tristan joined her brother on the dais and gazed down into the well. An iron grate covered the opening. The well dropped no more than four or five feet below the surface of the dais, but it was so dark (the darkness augmented by the shade of the weeping willow) that for a moment, Tristan couldn't make out anything inside. A moment's heavy blinking brought the flicker of light reflecting off of water to her eyes. Descending about a foot into the well was a rocky shoot of natural stone, peppered with green algae and moss.

"There's a chamber just below us that was used to store water for Muggles at one time," Cedric said. "It's not more than four feet deep."

"Does it lead anywhere?" Tristan asked, kneeling beside the well and trying to peer into the side of the chamber, to see if there was anywhere it might lead. But she could see nothing in the shadows cast by the tree.

"Supposedly not," her brother said in answer to her question. "But again, that's the Muggle version."

He glanced quickly around to be sure no Muggles might be able to overhear, and then went on, "But I've got a hunch this is the key to us finding Avalon."

Hayden and Tristan shared a rather doubtful glance before sinking simultaneously onto a stone bench that bordered the well source on three sides.

"So," Hayden said after a moment's silence. "Do you think the well itself leads to Avalon? Literally, I mean. Like we could swim there?"

Cedric snorted.

"If it were _that _simple then anyone could find it."

"Why couldn't they?"

"Avalon's only accessible magically, by people who've been invited by someone within it."

"How do you know that?" Tristan demanded, gazing with a gnawing feeling of suspicion at her brother.

"Research," was the unsatisfying reply.

"So wait," Hayden said, looking as stumped as Tristan felt. "How do we know we've been invited?"

"Hopefully someone down there is waiting for us," Cedric said, his voice rather tense.

"Why would they be?" Tristan asked. "No one was expecting us, were they?"

"They should be, if Dumbledore got Dad's letter," Cedric retorted.

"Dad's letter?" Tristan stared at him.

"You know, right before the younger version of our nutty father proposed this outrageous scheme, he sent Dumbledore an owl, warning him about Red Robes being on the loose and you and Hayden – " Cedric broke off, and Tristan swallowed. She knew what he'd been about to say.

"And you think Dumbledore might have got it after all?" she hazarded.

"I think he's expecting us, yeah," Cedric returned shortly. He knelt beside the well, resting his hands on the grate and leaning down to stare into the water.

"What're you – " Tristan began.

"Ah-ha!" Cedric said triumphantly. "I've found the clue."

"Clue?" Hayden and Tristan demanded.

"Clue to how we get in," Cedric told them impatiently. "Look."

Tristan and Hayden knelt on either side of him, leaning close to gaze into the water.

Water that was now shimming from an unknown light source and reflecting a strange series of images. A golden orb appeared and then flickered out, followed by a tree from which a single white flower fell. The tree vanished, but the white flower remained, dropping into what appeared to be a ripple in the undulating water. This imagery repeated itself several times, before flickering a final time and vanishing, along with the light source into the depths of the well.

"What's it mean?" Hayden whispered, gazing at the now still and empty water.

"This is our clue," Cedric murmured, sitting back on his heals and staring unseeingly at the trunk of the weeping willow. "Our only hint about how to enter Avalon. Someone _is _expecting us."

"Hopefully someone friendly," Tristan couldn't help muttering, getting to her feet and dusting off her hands.

"But – you don't think Red Robes is waiting in there, do you?" Hayden said. His words stated aloud what Tristan had been trying to avoid thinking.

"No – not if Dumbledore's in there," Cedric said confidently.

"I think we're placing entirely too much merit on the abilities of an _extremely_ old man," Hayden mumbled to Tristan out of the corner of his mouth as they followed Cedric back to the main path.

"Don't say that – Dumbledore's a really great wizard!" Tristan whispered back fiercely. "He defeated Grindelwald and helped Daddy prepare to battle Voldemort in the final – "

"He barely defeated Grindelwald," Hayden corrected, tucking his slim fingers into his pockets as the two followed Cedric up a gravel path to some of the higher grounds of the garden. "Didn't you know? The history books aren't specific because not a lot is known. But I heard Mum and Dad talking it over a few months back and Dad says that he once asked Dumbledore about the battle. I guess it was right before he and Mum took off to help Uncle Harry in the final battle with Voldemort. Anyway, he said that Dumbledore looked all humble and said to be prepared to rely on the Order of the Phoenix and Harry, especially, to stop Voldemort, because he, Dumbledore, had never quite had the strength he'd once had after dueling with Grindelwald."

He paused. Tristan stared impatiently at him.

"So – what did he say about it?"

"Just that in the end it had been a lucky escape," Hayden said. He suddenly looked worried. "I guess he told Dad that he didn't fancy pitting his abilities against Voldemort in a similar situation because he wasn't likely to win it. He insisted that Uncle Harry had a better chance, for some reason."

Tristan turned this idea over in her mind, feeling disturbing ideas beginning to form there. She supposed that, even though she'd never known the guy, his reputation had always made him seem omnipotent. When she, her young father, and Dorian had decided to go after him, Tristan had felt sure it was the right thing to do because Dumbledore would sort it all out in the end. Young Harry had seemed convinced that Dumbledore would make everything all right.

"No," she said slowly, tramping up the gravel walk beside Hayden. "I'm not worried. Dumbledore might not be up for any more wizards' duels, but he's supposed to be brilliant. Tactically, he was almost always two steps ahead of Voldemort, wasn't he? He protected Dad his entire life so that Dad could face him when the time came. He helped develop the defenses that kept the Order of the Phoenix hidden from the Death Eaters and Voldemort. If he can handle all that, I'm sure he can keep Red Robes out of Avalon."

"Let's hope so," Hayden mumbled, more to himself than to her.

Tristan shivered.

The area of the gardens to which Cedric had led them was actually more like a meadow planted on the side of a hill. One or two tall apple trees stood about on a part of the hill that flattened out a bit, but otherwise they had a fairly unobstructed view of Glastonbury proper on one side and what Tristan could only assume was Glastonbury Tor just behind them.

At the edge of the little plateau and just off their dirt path sat two wooden chairs separated by a flat wooden table. Cedric took one and Hayden slipped into the other, leaning back and grinning smugly at her. Tristan shrugged and seated herself in her brother's lap. This seemed to annoy Hayden immensely, but he wisely didn't comment.

"So," Tristan said after the three had silently admired the admittedly hazy view for a moment, eyes shielded from the now glaring sun by their hands. "What do we do next?"

"Solve the clue, of course," Cedric said. "And enjoy the sunshine. We've got several hours to wait for the others to arrive and scout out the Tor and the Abbey, and in the meantime we might as well relax a bit."

"I find it hard to relax when I'm being chased by a murderer," Hayden muttered.

"Scared, Malfoy?" Tristan jibed.

"As _if_!"

"Knock it off, you two," Cedric said distractedly. "All right. The first bit was the flickering gold ball."

"It looked like the sun to me," Tristan said promptly.

"But what's with the flickering?" Hayden countered.

"Maybe we're supposed to wait around for a supernova," Tristan smirked.

"Maybe you should shove that supernova up your – "

"For Merlin's _sake_!" Cedric snapped, and both teens went guiltily silent. Tristan saw his chest rise and fall with several deep breaths before he spoke again. "Okay. I think you're right, Tris. It did look like a sun."

"And the flickering," Hayden said with a nasty look at Tristan, "might have meant the sun 'going out' or setting."

"Good call, Den," Cedric nodded approvingly. "Now – the next object was a tree."

"Well, we're in a garden full of 'em and it wasn't a tree that would stand out to me if I saw it," Tristan said. "Ced, this is supposedly a sacred garden. Are there any – "

"Religiously prevalent trees?" He grinned. "You two are sharp. Yeah, there're several. There're the Yew trees that sort of grow everywhere through the garden. They pre-date Muggle Christianity and go way back to Celtic and Druidic culture. Dunno what connection they could possibly have to Avalon, though. And they don't bare white flowers."

"And the other trees?"

"The ones that seem more likely are called the Holy Thorn Trees," Cedric said, tapping a hand against Tristan's leg as he furrowed his dark brow in thought. "There're supposedly three thorn trees in this garden that were sprouted from the original tree that grew from the place where Joseph of Arimathea stuck his staff. He's the guy who supposedly brought the Holy Grail to Glastonbury, remember. Now supposedly he originally stuck the staff into Wearyman's Hill, which is just passed the Tor, but the wind picked up three splinters and dropped them into different parts of the garden."

"That would connect them to Avalon, all right," Hayden agreed. "And do they bare white flowers?"

"It's the Easter Hols, so yeah," Cedric said. "Interestingly, these trees only blossom around Christmas and Easter, the two holidays central to Christian religion."

"So, then," Tristan said slowly, her fingers toying with a leather thong wrapped around Cedric's wrist. "At sunset, something happens with these three trees. What's the last part again?"

"The flower dropping into the water," Hayden said.

"That's easy, too," Cedric said. "This riddle is telling us to drop a flower from each tree into the well's source at sunset."

"Are you sure?" Tristan asked, eyeing him doubtfully. "It could be more – I dunno – metaphorical than that."

"Why should it be?" Cedric asked, not unkindly. "If someone's giving us clues to get into Avalon, then whoever it is isn't going to muck around and be complicated – just cautious. They don't want just anyone getting in."

"Well, then," Hayden said after a moment's pause. "What do we do till sunset?" He glanced at the sky. "Hell, it isn't even noon yet!"

"Like I said, relax!" Cedric said, rolling his eyes. "We've an excellent view of anyone entering the gardens from here, so we'll know if Red Robes comes along. Take a nap, I'll keep watch. Miss Tristan, I think you were whining about how early we had to leave Bath."

"Sure was," Tristan said, feeling an overwhelming sensation of safety as she cuddled in her brother's strong arms. Her earlier doubts vanished as she rested her head on his shoulder. He wouldn't do _anything_ to hurt her – or Hayden, his blood brother.

Tristan peeped at the blonde from under her fringe. He was staring right back at her. She grinned wickedly.

"If you're lonely, Den, I'm sure Cedric wouldn't mind you joining us," she said sweetly.

She squealed as her brother pinched her side.

()

"There's really nothing up here, Potter!"

Blaise was fast losing patience. They'd been up on the Tor for well over an hour, poking around and trying to find something to indicate that they were close to finding Avalon.

But as Blaise had just asserted, there wasn't anything up there except the tower, which was really just a pile of useless stone, and a flat, circular stone with a silver plate atop it. This interesting navigational tool pointed out the directions of major Muggle settlements and towns in every direction and after realizing what it was for (and getting a blinding headache from the blazing sun reflecting off of it) she had ignored it, figuring that it wasn't all that old and could therefore have little to do with Avalon.

Harry seemed to have other ideas. His eyes kept trailing back to it and more than once Blaise had caught him shielding his eyes to try and read it.

"Well, there's nothing evidently important about the tower," he pointed out as she joined him beside the rock again. "So there must be something here. Like Cedric said, there're only really three major, Arthur-related areas of Glastonbury. Except . . . "

His voice trailed off as he stared down at the rock again. Then he suddenly shifted around it so that his body was casting a shadow over the rock. With some effort, he managed to position himself so that the entire rock and metal sheet of directions were shaded.

Blaise was about to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, when from out of nowhere came another blinding flash of light against the metal.

"I thought so," Harry said. "It's not just my eyes or the sun. See how I'm blocking the light?"

"And yet there's still light reflecting on it," Blaise murmured. "But what does it mean?"

They both shielded their eyes from another flash of light.

"That flashing is pretty deliberate," Harry pointed out. "Can you tell where on here it's flashing?"

Blaise waited patiently for another flash. When it came, she didn't shield her eyes but instead tried to get a look at the source of the light. To her surprise, it seemed to be coming from inside the metal. When she'd blinked the tears from her eyes that the bright light had caused, she leaned forward.

"Here it is," she murmured, staring down at the words that were still very faintly illuminated by the strange light. "It's a location outlined on this map. It looks like its back down that side of the Tor – a place called Wearyman's Hill."

She was nearly blinded again, as Harry chose to discontinue shading the rock right as another flash of light illuminated the metal. Winking furiously and trying to glare simultaneously (no easy trick), Blaise squinted and saw Harry nose-deep in his brochure.

"Ha! Here it is!" he said triumphantly. "Evidently, Wearyman's Hill is where Joseph of Arimathea struck his staff into the earth after he and his companions successfully carried the Holy Grail to its resting place." He paused upon seeing her blank look and sighed. "The Holy Grail is the cup that, according to a Muggle religion called Christianity, bares the blood of their savior, Jesus Christ, and is said to have eternal healing powers. Joseph of Arimathea, Jesus' great uncle, bore the cup to its resting place, supposedly the source of the Chalice Well here in Glastonbury. Muggles think it's buried there, but if Avalon is here, too, it's probably being protected there."

"Right." Blaise hated it when he knew more than she did. "And you found this out . . . how?"

"My Muggle aunt and uncle are Christian, of course," Harry said, looking mildly disgusted at having to bring them up again. "And the only stories Dudley ever liked when we were kids was anything to do with Arthur." He smirked. "Naturally, my aunt always left out the bits involving Merlin and stressed the stuff relating to Christianity, which she considers 'normal.'"

"So, then," Blaise said, deciding that it would be best to keep him occupied with more immediate concerns than his cracked Muggle relations, "should we go check out this Wearyman's Hill?"

"Why not?" Harry shrugged. He led the way back through the tower to the other side of the Tor. Pointing to the next, considerably smaller hill over from it, he said, "I reckon that's it."

Blaise's sharp eyes caught the hill as well as the single small tree that stood atop it, seemingly at its center.

"Well, if there's nothing there we can easily hike back here, can't we?" she said with a shrug.

The hike was, however, longer than it looked. Going back down the Tor was easy enough. Going up the side of Wearyman's Hill, however, was harder than it had appeared.

"Got any food left over in your pack?" Harry panted as, forty-five minutes later they at last crested the top of the hill.

"Water and biscuits," Blaise said apologetically, hitching her pack off and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground. It felt wonderful to have the heavy burden off and she felt a bit of a spring in her step as she walked across the empty, flat top of the hill to the single tree.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, gazing at the crooked branches that were just blooming with stunningly white narcissi-like flowers. Glancing over her shoulder, she rolled her eyes at Harry, who was guzzling all her water. "Oy! Save a bit for me, you prat!"

()

"Well," Dorian said, clicking his felly-tone off and sitting back in his chair. "It appears everyone's hitting gold today. Ced says they've found what appears to be a deliberately placed clue in the Chalice Well and Uncle Harry says that he and Aunt Blaise have found the original Holy Thorn Tree sprouted from Joseph of Arimathea's staff. Apparently, they were led there by a blinding flash of light that didn't come from the sun. I'm still a bit unclear about what happened."

"So what's our next move?" Ginny asked, popping a crisp into her mouth.

"Ced says he thinks we should all hang around our particular findings until sunset, since both his clue and ours say something'll happen round that time – oy, couldja fetch me another mutton and lettus on rye, love?" he called to a passing waitress.

"Where do you put it all?" Draco demanded.

"Hollow leg," Ginny suggested, smiling affectionately at her nephew, who didn't seem to have stopped eating since they'd entered the little tearoom.

"So what happens if someone lands a dud – with the clues, I mean?" Draco pressed on, with a contemptuous look at his nephew. "What makes Cedric so sure someone's giving us clues?"

"He says nothing would appear unless someone inside Avalon wanted us there as well," Dorian said over a mouthful of cheese sandwich. "Someone inside has to be giving the clues to us. He also says that there are supposed to be several different ways of entering Avalon, so not to worry – we've probably each found our own way in."

"Is all this sudden knowledge about Avalon making anyone else uneasy?" Draco groused, picking at his tomato and basil spread.

"It _is_ odd," Ginny admitted. She hated feeling suspicious again, as she'd come to quite like Harry's son over the course of this trip, but the fact remained that he seemed to know an awful lot more than he'd let on before, both about Glastonbury and Avalon.

"I'm telling you, he's Red Robes!" Draco hissed suddenly at her across the table. "We've had more than enough evidence over the course of this trip to – "

"He's not!" Dorian snapped, glaring – yes, _glaring_, at Draco. The blonde and Ginny both gaped at him. Dorian was the good-natured one, not one to pick a fight or get suckered into one. And here he was, bunching up his fists in defense of a friend.

Most truly the Gryffindor, Ginny thought rather proudly.

"Look, I know you don't like him," Dorian was saying menacingly to Draco. "But you hardly know the guy. I've known him since I was this big." He held his fingers an inch apart. "I grew up with him – he's my blood brother, for Merlin's sake! But I know we can trust him. He may know more than he's letting on, but who cares? He'd never, _ever_ hurt Tris or Hayden. _Never_!"

And he sat back in his chair with a look of such finality that not even Draco seemed to be able to come up with any reply.

"Er – we should get some fresh air, don't you think?" Ginny said quickly, when the silence became unbearable. "Let's – let's go back to the Abbey and wander – maybe had a nap in the sun or something."

Neither boy objected – Dorian looked as though he were trying to cool down a bit and Draco was still looking shocked and highly offended at his nephew's abrupt speech.

Ginny paid for their food (the waitress kindly wrapped Dorian's last order up for him) and led the boys out of the tearoom and across the quiet street. Dorian showed the cashier their ticket stubs and she let them back in, her expression bored, rather than suspicious that they were returning so soon, especially after having stayed so long in the morning.

"Let's find somewhere secluded," Ginny suggested. "I don't fancy Red Robes stumbling on us while we're snoozing."

Dorian did crack a small smile at that rather ridiculous idea.

"How about those trees over there?" he suggested, indicating a collection of conifers on the far side of the abbey property. "There's sun and shade, so we can cook and cool as we please."

This proved a perfect spot for napping. The tree they sat beneath perfectly supported Ginny's tired back as she leaned against it tiredly. She wasn't all that surprised to feel Draco's head settle in her lap a few minutes later.

The three spent the afternoon alternately dozing and keeping watch in turn for anyone suspicious. They saw no one and by the time sunset was approaching all three were feeling more alert than they had in days.

"Good thing, too," added Dorian after Ginny pointed this out, "since we'll probably need our wits about us in a moment. Aunt, you still want to wait by the mirror?"

"Yes," she said. "Ian, you take the tomb and Draco, you take the altar. And stay hidden, if you can. I imagine this place closes at dusk and it would suck be caught skulking about after hours by the curator."

This agreed to, the three slipped out from under their tree, skirting the park and trying to stay inconspicuously in the shade of the trees until they were hidden from the ticket office by the Abbot's Kitchen.

"Good luck," Dorian whispered as Ginny stole inside.

It was mercifully deserted, and once this was confirmed by a more thorough search, Ginny hurried back to the door and peered cautiously out over the ruins. From her vantage point she could see the window into the Lady Chapel and could see Draco's blonde hair flash in the setting sun. She couldn't see Dorian, but assumed he was keeping out of sight behind the ruins beside King Arthur's tomb.

Well, that was that, then. Ginny glanced around once more for any signs of a groundskeeper. Seeing no one, she returned to the mirror inside the Abbot's Kitchen to wait for sunset.

()

"About time," Hayden muttered tensely from where he sat beside one of the three Holy Thorn Trees. His tree of choice stood just above a spout of water from the Chalice Well, which came through the mouth of a lion, which was carved into the path of the creek from the well's source. Hayden had been sitting here for almost an hour since the sun had begun to sink across the western side of the blue sky, and seen several Muggles go through bizarre prayer rituals before cupping their hands to catch the water and drink it. When they gave him suspicious or annoyed looks, he began chanting under his breath and to his amazement, they accepted this and moved away.

For the last twenty minutes, however, he'd seen no one. Good thing, too, as he was about to commit what he assumed they'd consider sacrilege by plucking one of the white flowers from the tree above him.

Up the path, he saw Tristy basking in the last rays of the sun and seated beside the second Thorn Tree that stood near the well's source. Her eyes were closed and her glasses were settled in her lap. Her head rested against the bottom of the tree and she looked lovely with her dark hair blowing in the wind and a small smile upon her dark lips.

Hayden tore his gaze away from his comely nemesis to gaze up at her brother, who sat in the grassy meadow in which they'd all rested earlier. His long fingers toyed with one of the flowers on the third Thorn Tree, and Hayden though what a queer contrast Cedric's dark hand made against the oddly bright white flower.

()

"Wake up, love – the sun's setting."

Blaise's startlingly bright blue eyes opened and gazed up at Harry, in whose lap her head had been resting for about an hour. She sat up, gazing about sharply and not looking as though she'd slept at all. She gazed toward the hazy horizon, where the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon.

"What do you think we should do now?" she asked uncertainly.

"Let's stand by the tree," Harry suggested, at the same time feeling silly for saying so. "Cedric was right – if it's connected with Joseph of Arimathea it's probably connected to Avalon."

The two stood together and crossed to the lone tree, both struck by how brightly white the flowers seemed in the dying light of day.

()

Draco stood behind the altar, commanding a view of the fading light through the tiny window without standing in front of it. He likewise kept his back to the wall and faced the vast openness of the remains of the Nave that opened out in front of him.

The altar.

Something about it seemed different than when he and Ginny had been examining it earlier. Had the stone really been so light of color? Perhaps it was the beam of departing sunlight coming through the window and spilling across its surface that gave it such light texture now. And hadn't there been offerings of those strange white flowers atop it? Draco was sure he'd seen a bouquet of them here before. But the altar lay empty and smooth before him.

()

Tristan jerked awake, blinking in confusion as everything went from blackness to blurry. Blinking, she realized her glasses were clutched in her hand and she quickly pushed them back onto her face, got to her feet. Away down the path she could see Hayden, his pale hair illuminated ethereally by the dying sun, toying restlessly with one of the brilliantly white flowers on his thorn tree.

"It's time, I think." Cedric's voice from the meadow above made Tristan jump. She glanced around the garden, but it seemed deserted. They'd notice most of the other wanders leave as the sun began to sink through the azure sky.

Tristan watched Cedric pluck one of the flowers – were they _glowing_? – from the tree. She did the same, trying to avoid the thorns along the stem. A moment later, both Cedric and Hayden had joined her and the three stepped onto the dais beside the well's source.

"There it goes," Hayden said softly, nodding toward the sun as it dipped at last, ever to slowly, behind the distant trees.

"Now!" Cedric ordered, dropping his flower into the well through the grate. Tristan and Hayden did the same and as they did, the aurora of sunset seemed to flash across the sky in an arch of light.

The three knelt beside the grate, staring at their flowers, which seemed to sit motionless in the water.

For a long, tense moment, nothing happened. Then –

With a soft grating noise that was not at all the screech Tristan might have expected, the grate covering the well lifted up and swung open, revealing the dark waters of the well uncovered.

From somewhere in the depths of the water, Tristan heard a strangely familiar voice call out,

"_Enter_."

()

The sun flashed as it sunk below the horizon and Dorian stared hard at the black slab of stone before him. Was he supposed to do something?

His question was answered a second later when the black stone gave a sudden, silent shudder. All at once it began to ripple, as though turned liquid. Dorian took a hasty step back as the once solid marble undulated and twisted. Abruptly it gathered together at the center and spewed up into the air before collapsing down into a long, black set of steps that descended into darkness and out of sight. From somewhere within that darkness came a gentle, vaguely familiar voice.

_"Enter."_

()

Ginny clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a shriek as the mirror abruptly spun around to face her of it's own volition, just as the sun gave its final setting flash of light.

Something within Ginny impelled her forward and she leaned over to gaze into the mirror. Her own face gazed momentarily back at her, before it was replaced with one achingly familiar. A crooked smile and twinkling eyes kept Ginny's surprised shriek at bay. The face and the surface of the mirror gave a sudden ripple, as though turned to liquid.

The ancient man offered her his hand.

_"Enter_."

()

Draco swore he'd only looked away from the altar for a split second as the sun sank from view behind distant hills. But when he glanced back at the altar it was littered with the brilliant white flowers he'd seen earlier. Or rather, the petals of those flowers. It was as though someone had ripped them from the flowers and thrown them with joyous abandon over the altar and most of the Lady Chapel.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept the chapel and the petals took to the air, flashing and dancing wildly about. They swept up in a great stream of wind and then settled across the surface of the altar. Not a single petal dropped to the floor. Abruptly, the wind died, ending as suddenly as it had begun. Draco stepped forward, an odd sense of curiosity seeming to drive his otherwise reluctant feet forward.

The second he stepped up to the altar, the petals melted into a pure white puddle exactly the surface area of the top of the altar. They white was so white that it seemed as eternal as the blue sky outside had been. It twinkled and flashed at him for a moment, and then a strangely distant, oddly familiar voice echoed to him through the altar, likewise extending a hand toward him out of the whiteness.

_"Enter_._"_

()

"Blaise – Blaise, look!"

Blaise tore her gaze from the spectacular green flash that had accompanied the setting sun to see Harry staring at the Holy Thorn Tree. Blaise looked, too – and gasped.

The entire tree was writhing, its many crooked branches shifting and twisting themselves into a new shape.

Blaise stepped back, pulling Harry with her. The tree continued to twist and wiggle until at last it had formed itself into a high, arching entryway. Attached to it was a door made of the white flowers that had so lately adorned it. The flowers seemed to glow brightly in the darkening evening, and even as Blaise opened her mouth to ask what they should do next, a disturbingly familiar voice echoed through the flowers, as though the flowers themselves her speaking.

_"Enter."_

()

"Enter?" Hayden stared dubiously down at the exposed chamber of the well.

"Come on, we didn't come this far to back out now," Cedric said. He sat down at the edge of the basin, threw his legs over, and dropped into the water below.

"Ced!" Tristy shrieked, but too late. There was a spout of water that shot up above five feet through the mouth of the well, and then a great sound rather like an old toilet being flushed.

Then silence.

"Oh, Merlin, he's been drowned!" Tristy wailed, but already was dropping down to sit on the edge of the well.

"Hold up!" Hayden snapped, dropping down beside her. "You're not going in there."

"Try and stop me!" Tristy snapped. "Move, Malfoy!"

With both their feet hanging down into the well, Tristy couldn't fit through the mouth.

"We'll go together," Hayden made the executive decision quickly. "If we squish up, we'll both fit."

"Squish up?" Tristy repeated, as though he were mad.

Hayden leaned across the well mouth and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"We'll both fit if we stay close," he explained, and he was vastly annoyed to notice that even in a time of mortal peril his hormones were still capable of driving him to distraction wherever Tristy Potter was concerned.

"I see," said her voice in his ear, her arms wrapping tightly around him even as her small hand tangled in his hair and forced his head into the gentle curve between her neck and shoulder.

"Jump on three," Hayden breathed, letting his lips brush her pale skin.

"One," Tristy breathed, her own face buried in his shoulder. "Two – _three_!"

As one, they pushed themselves off the edge, automatically pulling each other as close as possible so they'd fit through the opening.

Hayden felt the splash as they hit the water and distantly thought he heard the clang of the grate slamming down above them.

Next second, the world dropped out from under him.

()

Ginny hesitated, and then grasped the wrinkled hand. A flash of silvery light – and she was gone.

()

Dorian had taken four steps down the dark stairwell when the stair he was standing on abruptly dropped out from under him and suddenly he was sliding through the inky blackness on his back.

()

Draco stared doubtfully and almost fearfully at the hand extending out of the white petals. Slowly, he reached out and grasped the warm hand. With a sudden jerk not dissimilar to a Portkey, the Lady Chapel vanished and he was surrounded by white.

()

Naturally, it took Harry only a moment to respond to the voice. Gripping Blaise's cold hand firmly, Harry stepped back in front of the flower-door. The instant Blaise stepped up beside him, they were engulfed in a sea of stars of white light.

()

Stars.

Stars pock marking a dark sky.

Waves.

Waves lapping gently at a rocky shore.

"Oh, my god!" shrieked seven equally high-pitched voices.

"What a trip!" moaned the eighth.

"Are we dead?" groaned one of the shriekers.

"We should be," grimaced another.

"I feel sort of – of spongy," came another, deeper voice.

"You look it," agreed his neighbor.

"Nark off, Potter!"

"He's right, Draco!"

"Shut up, Blaise!"

"We must be alive," chimed in another voice smarmily. "This sort of riffraff, bickering crap would never be allowed in _my_ afterlife."

"Oh, my head," yet another voice murmured shakily.

"Ow – Tris, you're strangling me."

"Sorry, I can't let go."

"Malfoy, get off my sister!"

"I can't – she won't let go of me!"

"Sorry, Ced, I can't help it. And he does smell awfully nice - "

Another round of shrieks cut off this effusion as a particularly large wave splashed over them.

"I wasn't aware there was a shore front in Glastonbury," sputtered a rather sarcastic voice.

"There isn't," Cedric Potter said, his voice tight with some emotion. "Welcome to Avalon, gang."

()

TBC


	13. Avalon

A/N: I apologize for not updating for about a month, but I want to make as few mistakes as possible this late in the story as the plot gets really complicated. Any major plot holes, please please please point them out to me!! Any questions you have I'll try to answer, either in the last chapters of the story or in an e-mail to you. I can't promise I'll get to everyone but my hope is that in the next chapter Dumbledore will be able to explain things adequately enough to satisfy you all. I also apologize for lacking romance in this chapter. The plot took precedence I'm afraid.

Additional Note for Loyal Reviewers: I know I don't usually thank reviewers in my A/N, but serious shout-outs to all of you, particularly those of you who review every chapter and write more than, "Update soon!", which is flattering, but not very helpful. I _do_ read my reviews, all of them, and they are so encouraging and helpful!! I really do enjoy your questions and comments regarding plot and characters, and hope I will be able to answer most of your questions when I complete the story. Thanks, by the by, for leaving nearly one-hundred reviews for the last chapter alone! I was surprised and deeply flattered!

Additional THANKS to **XunFoRgEtTaBlEbAbEX** for the many questions that have been my guiding light as I navigate the choppy waters of a ridiculously complicated plot. She's genius, ladies and gentlemen, and deserves many pats on the back for all the help she's given me. She's also kindly agreed to quasi-beta, and then fully-beta for me (I _do_ know how to make things difficult, don't I?), so kudos and many thanks and Bertie Botts to her!!

I'd also like to thank **Darcel** for pointing out that Blaise is a confirmed male in J.K.R.'s books. I appreciate the knowledge but respectfully submit that it's a bit late to change genders for this story

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Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good … (of course it's not ours!).

()

Ginny blinked – blinked again – at Cedric's speech.

_Avalon_. They had reached Avalon! After everything – all the danger of discovery by their elder selves, the run-ins with fearsome magical creatures, and the constant paranoia inevitably associated with Red Robes – they had arrived.

They were safe at last.

Ginny couldn't help smiling in relief at Cedric's words.

"About time, too," came Harry's distinctly smiling voice from somewhere to her left.

Ginny at last opened her eyes, having kept them closed after her engulfment in the silvery light of the mirror. She saw Dorian to her immediate left, and his smile of relief and ever-present eagerness matched her own. Just passed him, she could make out Hayden, who was pinned to the ground beneath Tristy, who by her own admission did not seem able to release him. Beyond them Cedric and Harry were getting to their feet, the latter offering a hand to Blaise who was looking warily around.

"You going to lie there all day, Weasley?" came a saucy voice from her right. She turned to see Draco on his hands and knees, looking as bedraggled and wet as she felt from their occasional pummeling by waves.

_Waves_!

Ginny pushed herself quickly up and turned to look toward the water. What she saw made her gasp. It was a body of water, stretching to the horizon. It looked utterly still and was illuminating by the now-set sun with an odd afterglow that made it look almost black. It was oddly smooth, which made Ginny momentarily wonder where the waves had come from, when from no probable cause another breaker surged forward and soaked those still on the ground. Ginny herself sputtered as salty water tickled her lips.

"For Merlin's sake, Gin!" Strong hands settled on her waist and pulled her to her feet. Ginny grasped at the long, pale fingers to support herself against a sudden wave of dizziness. How long had their transport from Glastonbury taken? Surely not _that _long, as the sun was still glowing faintly from behind the horizon. Besides which, Avalon was supposed to be on, in, or near Glastonbury.

Blinking the wavering ocean view from her eyes, she turned to look at Draco. She couldn't quite read his expression, but his voice conveyed suppressed relief. Reaching Avalon had clearly taken a load off his mind as well.

"Thanks," she said simply, keeping hold of his hand and turning again to stare at the vast sea before them. "Cedric," she called down the line without turning, "what's this body of water? It's not an ocean, is it?"

When she received no response, she turned to look curiously at him. He didn't appear to have heard her, as his attention was otherwise engaged by something behind them. Harry was also squinting up the beach and Blaise, Ginny noticed with no little surprise, was looking increasingly uneasy.

Ginny turned to look. A figure was coming toward them from beneath the shadows of massive trees that bordered the bank of the beach. Ginny couldn't make out any of the person's features, but the slight swagger in gate suggested that this was a woman. A short ways behind this figure came another, who looked rather prone to loping along like an adolescent boy.

"Who . . . ?" Draco began, his hand tightening unconsciously around hers.

"Gofers of Dumbledore's?" Ginny hazarded.

"Or something," Draco muttered and suddenly his wand was in his free hand. Ginny reached around and with some difficulty extracted her own from a side pocket in her backpack, which she allowed to drop behind her onto the rocky beach.

"You don't think it's Red Robes?" she hissed, feeling her palms moisten with nerves.

"Red Robes wouldn't make such an obvious approach," Draco countered, for once seeming to forget to inject some sarcasm into his voice as he let his pack fall beside Ginny's.

"Unless he knew we had nowhere else to run," Dorian, who had at last gained his feet, spoke. Ginny saw his own wand dangling from his sleeve.

"What're you all staring at?" Tristy had at last released Hayden and was pulling him to his feet. The two turned to follow the unwavering gazes of the others. The instant Hayden's eyes fell on the approaching, still shadowed, figures he pushed Tristy behind him and withdrew his own wand, which he'd evidently had stored in his pocket. Ginny felt a fresh sense of pride at her son's courage and loyalty to those he loved.

"Get off, Hayden!" Tristy's voice was annoyed, and a little embarrassed. Her own wand – a Caduceus identical to the one Blaise now held – was suddenly clutched tightly in her fist. Hayden gave a grunt of disapproval as Tristy stepped up beside him, but did not make any further objection. Evidently he'd learned something about his comely enemy-turned-whatever during their trek through the country.

A moment of tense silence followed this exchange as everyone watched the approaching strangers. At last, they stepped from the heavy shadows of the thick wood and came more sharply into focus. Ginny barely had time to process that they were indeed a man and woman when Blaise gave a sudden gasp, her expression one of surprise and, for some reason, fear. A second later, Cedric reacted, although his reaction caused the others to stare at him in amazement.

"Oh, thank Merlin – Mum!"

()

Tristan felt her eyes widen and her stomach plummet to her feet. She turned right around to gape at her brother.

"What did you say!?" she demanded.

"It's okay," Cedric said. He actually lowered his wand. "It's just mum."

"_Just_ – Cedric!" Harry was staring at him, too, eyes as wide as Tristan's behind his own specs.

"Oh, my god!" Blaise said faintly, staring at the approaching woman and her companion in what Tristan recognized to be utter disbelief. "Kid," she added a moment later, clearly addressing Cedric, "you're mad!"

"No, no I'm not!" Cedric said, and to Tristan's immense disquiet, he actually laughed. It was a foreign sound to his little sister. "It's really mum!"

And to the wonder of them all, he took off up the beach toward the approaching figures.

"I don't – I don't believe it!" Tristan breathed, feeling the color drain from her face as she gazed at the woman whose features were still next to impossible to make out. "I _don't believe it_!"

"Tris," Hayden said from beside her, his voice awed. He didn't continue. He seemed at a loss for words.

What Cedric did next made them all gasp. As he neared the approaching pair, he said, "Mum! About time – I was worried we'd arrived too late!" And without further tidings, he threw his arms around her in a tight hug.

Tristan felt her gut return from her feet and clench, as her eyes inexplicably began to sting. There was something about the familiarity with which Cedric spoke about and to the woman who might or might not be their mother that was not at all consistent with someone who had spent most of his adolescence 'searching' for her.

"It's like – like they've only been separated a day," Dorian, who had come down the line to stand with his cousin and friend, murmured to Hayden, echoing Tristan's thoughts.

"Something's definitely not right about this," Hayden muttered, and Tristan felt his hand tighten protectively on her wrist. For once, she was grateful to him.

Beside them, her parents were talking.

"It's me, Potter!" her young mother was insisting in a tightly constrained voice. "I can feel it. It's really me!"

"But – but – " her father seemed to be finding it difficult to speak. "But what're _you_ doing here?"

"Dunno," Blaise muttered back. Tristan saw her fingers tighten around the Caduceus clutched in her white-knuckled hand. "But our son doesn't seem nearly surprised enough about this for my taste."

"I told you," came Uncle Draco's menacing voice from down the line where he stood beside at wide-eyed Aunt Gin. "I told you lot that kid wasn't to be trusted."

"We don't yet know he isn't," came Blaise's abrupt retort, though she didn't sound nearly as sure of herself as usual. "Leave off my son, Draco."

After some of her other behavior during this trip no one was really shocked by this fierce response. Tristan's attention was called back to the now approaching party by the woman's voice – a voice that sent a thrill through her even as it stirred memories from her distant childhood.

" – sorry, love, but I've not got time to explain things to them right now," came the deep, rich tone that had once sung Tristan to sleep, had once to her stories of Quidditch and dragons and the adventures of a black-haired, scar-bearing wizard. "They're expected and we need to resolve this conflict _now_."

"All right," Cedric said. "But I want them to understand – I don't want them thinking the worse of any of us for what we have to do."

Tristan felt her insides clench again. That sounded ominous and again, not at all in keeping with someone who was supposed to be as ignorant as any of them to the mysteries of Avalon, Blaise Zabini, and the rest.

The group came to a halt before the bedraggled travelers and for the first time since she was five years old, Tristan got a good look at her mother.

Blaise was stunning, just as she was at seventeen. But experience and time had done much for her. The sharp expression of the sometimes purple, sometimes sapphire eyes was softened into intelligent observation. The dark hair was lighter, looking almost sun-kissed with highlights. Her figure, though well formed and voluptuous as ever, looked more becoming in the simple tunic she'd wrapped herself in than the leathers her younger facsimile had borrowed for the journey.

Tristan noticed all this in the space of a few seconds, even as she tried to discover how she felt about being reunited with the woman again after her abandonment as a small child. Tristan knew what she would have felt had she _not_ gotten to know her mum's younger self, but now . . .

Tristan tore her eyes away as the sting was joined by a burning in her throat. All these years and now here she was, standing before the woman whom, not a week ago, she'd admitted to wanting back in her life so desperately. She blinked and blinked again, determined that her tears would not leave her eyes. She felt Dorian's arm go around her shoulders in a protective gesture, copied a moment later by Hayden's arm wrapping around her waist. Without thinking, Tristan turned her head and buried it in the blonde's shoulder, wanting to hide the tears she could no longer contain.

"Tristan."

That voice, as it spoke her name, made Tristan's heart leap in anticipation and memory. Slowly, she pulled her face away from Hayden, whose arm tightened around her. She found herself staring into that face so like and unlike her own. But it was the expression on that face that made her heart skip. It was an expression that Blaise's younger self had just begun to wear that night in London when they had talked by the window. It was a look so full of achingly powerful love that Tristan felt almost drowned in it.

"My little Tristy," her mum whispered, her own voice hoarse. A graceful hand reached out to gently caress Tristan's tearstained face.

"Get your hand off her," came a shaking voice from Tristan's right. She turned to see her father glaring with such loathing, such anger as she had never seen on his younger facsimile before. It was an expression that spoke of betrayal and distrust. Below that, there was hurt. Great hurt.

"Harry," the woman before Tristan said softly, her eyes widening briefly as she took in the countenance of her younger self and her future husband.

"You heard him," came the younger Blaise from beside him. Her eyes were blazing, her face pale and furious. "You're not her mum. Leave her alone."

Far from looking offended, the elder Zabini closed her eyes with a look so reminiscent of regret that Tristan wanted to go to her. Her brother got there first. With an arm around his mother, he said sharply, "Mum, dad, it's not like that at all. I can explain everything."

"You lied to us, Ced," Dorian said, sounding both disbelieving and hurt. "You said you didn't know anything about where Aunt Blaise had gone or about Avalon."

Tristan felt a fresh sting of tears, though this time caused by an abrupt sense of betrayal. If Cedric could explain all this, then he'd known where their mum was – how to get to Avalon – all along. He'd known about their mum and never told Tristan – never allowed her the relief of understanding why she'd been abandoned.

What else was he hiding from his too-trusting kid sister?

"We haven't time for this, Ced," came the quiet voice of the man standing just behind them.

"Neville Longbottom, I presume," Harry cut in softly, his eyes narrowing. The look of disbelief and betrayal on his face made Tristan flinch, but she could hardly blame him. Her mum had by all accounts left him for the tall, though rather heavy man standing silent before them.

"Harry," the man nodded, his eyes apologetic, but not intimidated under the host of unpleasant looks he had just drawn from Blaise to himself. He continued. "There really is an explanation for all this, I promise you. But we really haven't time right now. We need to get you to Dumbledore – he can explain everything."

The mention of Dumbledore's name had the desired effect. Harry's face lost much of its volatility and the younger Blaise regained a bit of color in her pallid cheeks.

"So he's really here?" she demanded.

"And waiting for you," her elder self confirmed. "We need to take you to him – and quickly."

"Why the rush?" Aunt Gin, who had been silent throughout the entire exchange, asked rather timidly.

"He can explain everything to you and he thinks he can straighten this whole mess out," Longbottom told her, with a small smile. "Good to see you again, Gin."

Tristan's aunt's face split into a reluctant, though genuine smile.

"You as well, Nev," she said softly, ignoring the outraged looks she was receiving from half the group.

"This way," the elder Blaise said, her voice suddenly crisp and businesslike, turning and leading the way back up the beach. Cedric stayed by her side, with one sidelong look at his little sister. Tristan sent him an unforgiving glare, keeping her station between Hayden and Dorian. As if in silent understanding, each of them reached for one of her hands. She pocketed her Caduceus, accepting their hands and their temporarily renewed friendship.

Blaise led the group back toward the trees through which she and Longbottom had come by way of a narrow path. The sky overhead, though not directly lit by the sun, didn't seem to be losing any of its light. On the contrary, the large, dark clouds overhead appeared to be holding the remaining light in check.

"Blaise – look." Tristan's father was calling the younger Blaise's attention to the land to their left. Though the whole lining of the beach's bank was tree-lined it was easy to see that the trees ascended a very sharp incline, like a steep hillside. They rose away into the distance, ending in a visible clearing at the hill's crest.

"Is this the tor?" Blaise hissed, staring after Harry's pointing finger.

"That looks an awful lot like the tower up there, doesn't it?" Harry returned. "Remember what my brochure thing said: Glastonbury proper used to be entirely under water. And Avalon is supposed to be an island in the middle of the sea – or a giant lake. It's possible that the tor was the only land above water at one time."

"How is a giant sea or lake or whatever being concealed?" Blaise demanded. "Surely we haven't gone back in time."

"No, I don't think so," Harry said. He paused, and then finished simply. "I think Avalon is just a very, very magical place. Merlin himself was supposedly here a lot."

Uncle Draco gave a snort from behind them. He and Aunt Gin, Tristan noticed, were staying decidedly detached from the Potter family's tension. To her aunt did Tristan attribute this delicacy. She was probably remembering her own first encounters with her future self and probably also sympathizing with Tristan's situation.

Tristan herself hardly knew what she felt. She wanted to be near the woman who was her mother, though whether to strangle her or cry in her arms like a baby she didn't know. She _did _want to talk to her, that much she knew. She had to know why Blaise had left them, whether the reason was indeed an affair with Longbottom or something more substantial.

_Surely their involvement with Dumbledore has something to do with this_, Tristan thought.

"Tris, where're you going?" Dorian demanded. Tristan suddenly realized that she had pulled her hands away from the boys and taken two long strides ahead of them. Without answering, she pushed passed her younger parents and jogged to catch up with her brother and mum.

"Someone mind telling me what's going on?" she asked, rather snarkily.

"Tristy," Cedric said, his voice irritatingly patronizing as well as warning.

"Don't you talk to me like that!" she bit out. "You've obviously been going behind my back – no, shut it, I don't care whether you were protecting me or not, Ced. Actually, I'm sick to death of everyone trying to protect me. Mum," she addressed the elder woman, whose intense eyes had been trained on her since she'd joined them. "Tell me what the hell is going on or I'll not go a step further."

And she stopped along the side of the path, cross her arms defiantly.

"Tristy, love," her mother said, stopping as well to face her and looking suddenly weary. "I promise you I'll explain everything, but we must reach the tor first. You have to see Dumbledore – we all do."

"Explain to me why I should believe your promises," Tristan snapped, a flash of resentment lighting her eyes.

"Because I am your mother," the woman said, her own eyes flashing. "And I'm telling you that I'll keep my word. I'm also telling you to start walking, young lady. We haven't time for games."

"My mum," Tristan shot back viciously, indicating the younger version of Blaise, "has so far given me no such order. When she does, I'll move without objection."

The bite clearly hurt – Tristan could see the elder Blaise wince faintly, while the younger looked surprised and rather touched at this claim of deference to her authority. She did not, however, order her daughter to keep walking. She pursed her lips and stared expectantly at her elder self.

Either she was tired of arguing or she knew it was fruitless, because the elder Zabini sighed heavily.

"Compromise?" she suggested. "Can we walk while I talk? I'll tell you what I know if you promise to keep your feet moving until we reach the tower. Deal?"

Tristan decided she wasn't going to get a better offer and nodded curtly. She was about to step back onto the path when she felt something on her wrist. At first she thought it was Hayden's hand – he stood nearest her right side – but when she was suddenly jerked violently backward, she realized too late that the hand did not belong to anyone in their party.

()

"Tristy!" nine voices shouted simultaneously. Four figures made to dive straight into the woods, but were held back by five others. Before anyone could speak, Tristy and the person clutching her wrist had vanished into the dark forest.

"No!" The elder Blaise had found her voice. "They're gone for now. If any of the rest of you go in there, you'll be lost forever! You've got to stay on the path." Even as she spoke, Harry could hear the panic in her own voice.

"But we've got to save her!" Hayden hollered, looking almost wild himself.

"We can't do it by acting rashly, kid!" Cedric snapped, though his own voice was shaky. "We've got to get to Dumbledore!"

"What about – ?" the younger Blaise began tremulously.

"They can't leave Avalon without one of the gateways being opened from within," Blaise assured herself firmly. "And the only people who can open the gates are myself, Neville, and Dumbledore."

"But what if whoever that was hurts her?" Ginny asked anxiously.

"Or kills her," Draco added quietly. To Harry's great surprise, he was looking slightly alarmed himself.

"If they'd wanted to kill her, they'd have done it!" the elder Blaise snapped. "Come on!"

They followed her silently up the path, mostly still in shock. Harry couldn't believe it – his daughter had been taken! After all their safety precautions, after everything they'd been through . . . and it was here, of all places! Here in Avalon where they were supposed to be safe at last.

"Who – who was that?" Hayden stammered. He sounded stunned and Harry noticed upon closer inspection that the younger Malfoy was being pulled up the path by a wide-eyed Dorian.

"It was Red Robes, wasn't it?" Ginny said shakily, her eyes flickering nervously over her shoulder.

"That's not possible, though," Cedric mumbled, looking shaken himself. "Dumbledore's wards were set up to protect anyone in our bloodline who entered Avalon . . . " His voice trailed off and he shook his head hopelessly. "Mum?"

"There was a change of plan. Anyway, don't worry. They're not leaving Avalon," she told him. "Hurry it up. We need to see Dumbledore."

They climbed the rest of the way in silence. Despite the fact that he and Blaise had done this exact climb earlier in the day, it felt new and somehow much longer to Harry. Perhaps because the path twisted and wound its way through the forest and left no gaps through which to see the tower.

Or perhaps it was because every second's delay carried his daughter into graver and graver danger. Harry's stomach tightened and he felt anger and frustration fill his legs, seeming to speed his climb. The sooner they reached Dumbledore, the sooner his little girl might be found and recovered. He didn't want to think about Tristy's last encounter with Red Robes.

"She'll be all right," Blaise murmured from his side. "She – " indicating her elder duplicate – "is right. If Red Robes wanted Tristy dead, he'd have killed her."

"So he wants her for ransom," Harry muttered, glaring at nothing and silently urging those in front of him to speed their climb.

"I can't bloody believe this!" Draco was saying behind him. "After all this time, we think we're safe – and suddenly it all goes to the dogs! Hell, I was even starting to like the kid!"

Despite his dark mood, Harry felt a smile tug at his lips. For Draco Malfoy to start feeling something, however remotely akin to affection, for Tristan Potter, suggested that great change was occurring in some quarter.

"Who is he, that's what I want to know," Ginny said.

"Who, Gin?" Harry asked.

"Red Robes!" Ginny said, soundly frustrated. "I mean, we all kind of assume he's out to get us – "

"Possibly because he threatened to kill us in the Astronomy Tower," Draco pointed out dryly.

"Right, but it might have been just to get us out of the way," Harry said, catching Ginny's meaning. "Since our arrival here, we've only seen him once and he wasn't threatening us then. He was – " Harry paused, trying to think of the right words as he remembered the visage of the hooded figure on the Malfoy family's Quidditch pitch.

"Just watching," Blaise finished, her own expression thoughtful. "And if he had access to the Malfoy Estate, he might have found a way to break into the house if he still wanted us dead."

"You think he let us get ahead and followed us here?" Hayden demanded.

"You have to admit, for someone capable of stealing a Time Turner and committing murder under Albus Dumbledore's nose, tracking us down shouldn't have been that difficult," Draco agreed. "Let's face it – he's had ample opportunity to kill any or all of us if that had been his plan. So then. What might his other motives have been?"

"Well," Dorian said, sounding uncomfortable. "He did just run off with Tristy, didn't he? And he – he killed Hayden and Tristy once before."

"I don't think we'll need to speculate for much longer," Ginny cut in, pointing up the trail.

She was right. About twenty meters ahead there was an opening in the dense line of trees that allowed for a limited view of an open meadow and the bottom of the tower.

"Come on," the elder Blaise said, quickening her pace. "We're short on time."

"I'm eager to see Dumbledore and all, but what's with this time constraint?" her younger facsimile muttered to Harry.

"No idea," Harry returned quietly, lengthening his strides to keep up with Blaise, Cedric, and Neville. "But I'm quite interested in getting some answers. Not to mention getting our daughter back."

Blaise's face paled, her expression darkening.

"I wonder what the ransom will be," she hissed. She gave a frustrated huff. "If we even had an idea, we might be able to figure out why Red Robes has been tracking us in the first place."

"Assuming that was Red Robes who snatched her," Dorian said hesitantly from behind her.

"It was." The three jumped as Neville addressed them. "No one else is in Avalon right now."

"But how did Red Robes get in, Longbottom?" Draco called.

"He was let in," Neville said shortly.

"_What_?" six voices said simultaneously. Six feet stopped walking and six pairs of eyes widened in horror.

"Come _on_," Blaise snapped, pausing herself and turning to glare at them. "Everything will be explained to you when we get to the tower."

"Trust her - she knows what she's doing," Cedric assured them, though he looked a bit puzzled himself. He turned back and jogged to catch up with him mum, whose strides had lengthened determinedly.

"I really don't like this," Ginny whispered anxiously as they all began walking again, albeit reluctantly. "'Just wait till we reach the tower and _all_ your questions will be answered.' This is getting kinda scary."

"You said it," her son agreed. "Hey," he added a moment later, "what if Dumbledore isn't here?"

"We've come too far to turn back now, even if we wanted to," Ginny said. "Look, I've known Neville for years and I don't think he'd get involved in anything underhanded. He was a Gryffindor and he's always had a sense of honor."

"And Cedric is Tristy's most loyal defender," Dorian agreed slowly. "His priority is keeping Tristy safe. And we're his blood brothers – " indicating himself and Hayden – "and you don't swap blood and then turn on a bloke."

As he spoke they came through the gap in the trees and into a vast grassy field that was filled with the same white flowers Harry had seen on the tree on Wearyman's Hill. The field seemed an ocean of pure, pure white. At the very center of the field sat the tower, although it looked different from the tower on Glastonbury Tor. It looked as though it made up one corner of a stone courtyard.

"Welcome to the Sanctuary Temple of Avalon," the elder Blaise said softly. "Come. We need to get inside."

Harry followed her, feeling an inexplicable sense of relief at the sight of the temple. It felt safe in a way the narrow trail through the woods most certainly had not. He could only hope whomever awaited them within was friendly.

()

For several minutes after she had been snatched off the trail, Tristan felt as though she was floating through a dark tunnel. So dense were the trees that she could only make out indistinct shapes of trunks as they rushed by. She had no idea how she was being supported, but the forceful grip on her wrist remained, cold and smooth. The icy hand sent a shiver through her that rendered her incapable of speech. She could feel the air rushing passed and knew they must be traveling quickly.

At last, a faint light began to show ahead of them. Abruptly, Tristan felt her feet hit the ground. She stumbled, but the grip on her wrist yanked her up and pulled her into a noisy run through unseen underbrush. The light was almost like a tunnel though the dark wood and as they ran, Tristan tried to glance around, to get some idea of where they might be in relation to the tower they'd been heading toward. But she couldn't make out anything beyond a rush of bush and tree.

"Hurry," the voice of her assailant snapped hoarsely, pulling her sharply forward. Tristan felt a stitch forming in her side, but quickened her pace.

At last, after what seemed an age of running, the pace slowed. Tristan could see that the light was, in fact, coming from a clearing up ahead. As they neared the perimeter of the tree cover, her abductor withdrew something long and thin from her sleeve – a wand, Tristan thought numbly – and pointed it at her.

"_Silencio_!" the voice hissed. Suddenly, the sound of Tristan's footfalls vanished. She cried out in surprise, staring down to make sure her feet were still there. With another cry, she realized that her cry had been soundless. She couldn't make a sound.

"Stop," the voice ordered, the grip on her wrist pulling her to a halt about a meter from the forest's edge and then pulled her to the ground. "Don't move. I've got my wand on you and if you put a toe out of line, you'll regret it."

Tristan stretched out flat on her stomach, which was in knots. She knew she wasn't going to be killed – yet. She was going to be used as leverage. But for _what_, that was the question. From her eye-level, she actually had a fairly good view of the clearing. It was more like a vast field, filled with those pure white flowers that she, Hayden, and Cedric had dropped into the well source.

_Cedric_.

Tristan felt a jolt of anger, of betrayal. He'd kept his knowledge of this place from her – had _lied_ to her repeatedly, it appeared – and for how long? How long had he been in on their mother's plans, on her affair with Longbottom . . . ?

Tristan felt tears well in her eyes. With no one to see them, she let them slide unchecked down her cheeks. Suddenly she wished her father were there – her older father, the one who was hyper-overprotective. The one who loved her more than anything in the world. He had been right all along. He had been right about Blaise's betrayal. He had been right not to trust Cedric.

Tristan felt more tears dash her cheeks and wiped them away with her sleeve. It was as she tilted her head to remove her now foggy glasses that she noticed the wand her hooded assailant was holding to her head.

A Caduceus. Tristan could just see its white, intricate shape out of the corner of her eye. She felt her mouth fall open. She knew how rare Caducei were. She was the only witch at Hogwarts to carry one and knew her mum to be the only one in her day.

But – this couldn't be her mum. She'd seen both of them standing before her on the path right before she was taken.

She gasped (silently) as a hand pulled her specs from her limp hand. Fear filled her as her vision blurred.

"Allow me," said the voice of her captor. Tristan heard a rustle of material and a moment later her glasses were placed firmly back on her nose.

"You did get Potter's unfortunate vision gene, didn't you?" the voice said softly. With her specs back on, Tristan was able to turn and look up at the hooded figure seated beside her. "Pity. Zabini eyesight is usually superb."

Tristan glared at the hooded figure for a moment, feeling too resentful to take in what he'd said. Then it hit her. How did he know anything about her mother's family? She stared hard at him, trying to see passed the hood that hid the face. With the shadows cast by the forest contrasting with the light of the clearing, however, it was impossible to make out facial features –

It was then, as her eyes fell on the Caduceus again, which was clutched in the stranger's right hand and pointed straight at her, that she noticed a flicker of light over the cuff of the sleeve.

_Red_.

She sucked in a sharp breath. She supposed it wasn't all that surprising, though. She didn't know of anyone else who was out for her blood at the moment. The question was, how had Red Robes entered Avalon? Didn't that require special invitation from someone inside?

"Oh, no," she mumbled inaudibly. Someone had let Red Robes in. And her young parents, aunt and uncle, and friends were heading toward the tower now. What if whoever was in the tower was in league with Red Robes? Suppose her brother – it hurt to think it, but she couldn't put anything past him now – was leading them all into a trap? What if Dumbledore wasn't here at all?

Was it possible that her mum was in league with Red Robes?

Tristan's stinging eyes went from the red sleeve to the Caduceus. Might she be looking at her mum's wand, lent to her assassin for a brief time?

It suddenly occurred to Tristan that her own Caduceus was buried in her front pocket. Her front _right_ pocket. The pocket farthest from Red Robes. Rendered silent as she was by the charm, her movements could only be seen, rather than heard. She glanced at her attacker again, but his gaze appeared to be fixed on the tower. Red Robe's Caduceus, unfortunately, was pointed right at her and she had little doubt, judging by how steadily it was aimed at her head, that its owner could cast a charm far faster than Tristan could get to her own wand in her present position.

She could, however, at least remove the silencing charm. It would simply require a firm grip on the wand, without any actual waving. And Red Robes would never hear the spell. Not that it would matter. If Tristan was going to be stuck here, she wanted to find out all she could about Red Robes, her mother, and Cedric.

And she couldn't ask if she couldn't talk.

Turning back and staring through the foliage between herself and the meadow, she let her right hand fall limply at her side, using her left to prop up her chin, her fingers curling to hide her mouth. Carefully, she slid her fingers over the handle of the Caduceus and said the counter curse firmly. It came out silently and she had no way of knowing if it had worked.

"Nice try, pet," came the voice of Red Robes, making her jump as a hand snaked over and plucked the Caduceus from her pocket. Her jumping was to a purpose, however, because the accompanying gasp she let out was clearly audible. Well, she didn't have her wand, but for the present, she had her vocal chords.

"I wasn't going to try and escape," she murmured shakily, prepared to bet that her nerves would cause her to babble. "You'd have been able to restrain me before I could get my wand out. I just wanted to be able to talk. Don't worry, I won't yell or anything. Since you're probably going to kill me in the end anyway, I just wanted to ask you some questions."

"Such as?" the voice said, and for the first time it struck Tristan that she couldn't tell whether the voice was male or female. They'd all been assuming Red Robes was male, but as her mother had pointed out, voices could be altered. Clearly, Red Robes' voice was so now to make it less obvious which gender it belonged to.

"Er – such as who you are," Tristan stammered, also uncomfortably aware of the Caduceus near her left temple. "Or what you want. Or why you kidnapped me. Or why you supposedly killed Hayden and me. Or how you knew that Zabinis almost always have perfect vision. Or why you wear tacky red robes. Or – "

"All right!" the voice said, sounding mildly irritated. "If you keep babbling like that, I will silence you again."

"Sorry," Tristan faltered, feeling more embarrassed by that threat than afraid of the consequences.

"I see you have also inherited the Zabini curiosity," the voice went on. "Most interesting."

"Who are you?" Tristan demanded. "How do you know so much about my mum's family."

"Quiet!" Red Robes hissed suddenly, the Caduceus connecting painfully with Tristan's temple. "Not a sound."

Tristan tore her eyes from the hood and looked back into the clearing. She nearly groaned in frustration and fear as her mum (both of them), followed closely by Cedric and the others, entered the meadow and headed for the tower courtyard at the center. She clenched her teeth, knowing that if she betrayed their position Red Robes would have little trouble dragging her back into those dark woods. She assumed that since no one had followed them after their flight that the woods were extremely dangerous.

There was also the fact that the elder Blaise kept insisting that they had little time. Perhaps they had felt it would be more prudent to wait for Red Robes' demands –

Which it appeared he was about to make. He tensed at the group neared the entrance to the courtyard.

"Up," he hissed at her the instant the group reached it, pulling her roughly to her feet and holding the Caduceus firmly against her temple. Tristan stood silent, waiting for – well, she didn't know what, but nothing good she was sure.

Cursing the stubborn nature that had gotten her into this unpleasant position, she waited for Red Robes to make his move.

()

Blaise felt a jolt of anticipation in her gut as they reached the stone archway that led into the courtyard. From what she could make of it at their present distance, it appeared to be a sort of garden, with vines crawling the walls and blooming with an assortment of the white flowers. Though differently shaped, Blaise noted the identical white hue in all of them with her sharp eyes.

"If we weren't in dire peril, I can't say I'd mind spending a few weeks here," Ginny murmured tensely from somewhere at the back of the group. "It's so peaceful."

"It was used as a monastery during Merlin's time," Longbottom informed her. "He often came to meditate. No magic was allowed within Avalon until it became a school of magic."

"Avalon was a school of magic?" Draco demanded incredulously.

"I thought it was a haven of Christianity," Harry said thoughtfully. "And typically, Christians condemned magic as demonic."

"Merlin helped guide Joseph of Arimathea to Avalon with the Holy Grail, which holds the blood of the Christian messiah, Jesus Christ," Longbottom explained. "In exchange, the monks protected the Grail while it remained in their power to do so. However, when King Arthur set out to seek it, Merlin and the monks knew that it must never fall into his hands, for such incredible power was great enough to corrupt the hearts of the best men. Anyway, Merlin concealed Avalon with heavy magic, the monks left for shores untainted by magic, and in order to keep the discovery of Avalon's real purpose a secret, Merlin instituted a school of magic in Avalon, thereby keeping the magical protective barriers strong and also preparing a steady flow of witches and wizards who could in turn train others and thus keep magical learning alive in the world. I understand Godric Gryffindor's great great great grandfather was one of Merlin's first students."

"Come." Blaise noted that her elder facsimile had quickened her pace. "Dumbledore's waiting."

The group followed her through the stone archway and into the courtyard. Blaise couldn't help agreeing with Ginny – it looked indeed like the sort of place in which one could feel restful. There was a peace in the air and Blaise paused to take a deep breath and a quick look around. The only light in the courtyard was that of a kind of twilight – day and night appeared to have little meaning in this place - hazy beams of light cast their liquidity in strips over the low stone benches set against the walls of the courtyard. The sky overhead appeared in deep, rain-burdened clouds that gave no signs of bursting, but opened a small enough hole to allow a single, defined ray of light to dance over the single, small willow that stood at the courtyard's center. Blaise stared at it. It seemed to be swaying in a similar way that she'd seen the Whomping Willow do. But perhaps it was only a trick of the ethereal light.

"Yes, indeed, it is moving, Miss Zabini," came a familiar, vaguely mischievous voice from the opposite end of the courtyard. "It is infused with the magic of wizards, beginning with Merlin and carrying on through the ages."

All of them, except the elder Blaise and Longbottom, jumped. Albus Dumbledore stepped from concealment behind a pillar and into their path.

"Professor," Harry breathed, his voice echoing the relief all of them must have felt. "Er – it's great to see you, sir."

"Under different circumstances, I would echo your sentiment wholeheartedly, Harry," the old man said. He looked very much as Blaise remembered him from her time. Though an increase in wrinkles around the eyes and mouth was apparent, the hair was the same pure, glossy white that it had been for the last half-century. He was a bit stooped over now, but his eyes remained sharp and there was still an indefinable air of power around him.

"Sir, Red Robes has taken Tristy," Hayden cut in abruptly. He looked rather awed by Dumbledore (whom he'd evidently never met), but he also looked worried and upset. Blaise saw Draco swallow a smirk and realized how nonsensical Hayden's statement had been. Dumbledore had probably heard of Tristan from her mother, but how would he know that they had named their pursuer "Red Robes"? It was a pretty silly nickname, really.

"I'm aware of that," Dumbledore said, any mischievous light dimming in his eyes as they grew serious. "I had hoped to hear your tale from start to finish so that I may understand it all, but I'm afraid there just isn't time."

"Can you explain what you know to us, sir?" Ginny asked. "I mean, do you know who Red Robes is?"

"I am aware of the person, but unaware of his or her identity," the old man said wearily. "I'm also aware of what he or she seeks. But I'm afraid the story is too long. All I have time to tell you is that you do not belong here and setting things right will depend entirely on you returning to your proper time. It is only fortunate that Harry's letter to me several weeks ago alerted me to your presence here and made me better able to prepare for your return home."

"But – but, sir!" Harry sounded desperate. "We have to save Tristy and Hayden, sir. I mean, we came here to prevent their murder."

"And in doing so may cause far worse than two murders, Harry," Dumbledore said, rather sharply. "Overlooking the fact that you are here expressly against my orders to do _nothing_ with regard to the children – "

"Wait – you _know_ about all that?" Draco demanded.

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "I knew the instant you left Hogwarts twenty-three years ago and where you must have gone."

"How, sir?" Dorian asked curiously.

"It is too complicated to explain fully; suffice it to say that your coming into the future opened another possible future and when that happened, the bodies in my office vanished."

"Our bodies?" Hayden asked nervously.

"Indeed." Dumbledore moved briskly toward them. "But we must get outside. You four must be sent to your proper time, and quickly. You must be gone before Tristan's assailant arrives."

"But – " Ginny, Harry, and Blaise all began. Draco pursed his lips.

"I promise you that your continuance in a time that is not yours is doing more harm than good," Dumbledore told them. He looked almost sympathetic. "I know you wish to help, but I assure you that the longer you stay the more you endanger the lives of those you wish to save. Come, into the field. The particular magic of that tree you were watching, Miss Zabini, prevents me performing the necessary magic within the courtyard."

They followed in silence. Blaise glanced at Harry's face and saw it riddled with guilt. She knew his first thought when coming into the future had been to protect his daughter – naturally his intentions had always been good.

_The road to hell is paved with good intentions_, she thought, feeling her own gnawing culpability. If Harry had come by himself, it would have been so much less complicated. Perhaps Harry could have delivered his warning and left without throwing things into such confusion or luring Red Robes right to Dumbledore's hideout.

_But someone let him in_, Blaise thought suddenly.

"Sir," she said. "Is it true that Red Robes is only here because he was invited in by someone else?"

"That is correct, Miss Zabini," Dumbledore said, leading the way back through the courtyard's doorway.

"Well, who was it, then?" she demanded. "Longbottom said that the only people in Avalon are the ones right here."

"Neville is quite right," Dumbledore said simply. "But to tell you would require me to explain a great deal and we haven't much time."

"You have even less than you think," came a cold voice from the opposite side of the clearing. They all whirled around. There, at the edge of the wood, stood Red Robes, his wand pressed against Tristan's temple. He was using the girl as a shield, pinning her against him with his free arm.

Hayden and Harry both stepped desperately forward, but were restrained by Dumbledore's and Longbottom's arms.

"Not like this," Longbottom murmured to Harry. "Take it easy."

Harry relaxed, but only slightly. His eyes were trained on his daughter with a pained expression.

"That's right; no one come any closer," Red Robes said, almost idly. "Or little Tristy and I take a ride." And so saying, he raised the hand pinning Tristy to him and revealed the Time Turner grasped in it. Poised as it was, the slightest shake would turn it and carry Tristan to who-knew-when. Blaise saw Tristan's lips purse and her eyes flickered to the wand and then down at the Time Turner. She knew she was in trouble.

"What is it you want?" Blaise found herself snapping. "No one's in the mood for games right now."

"Indeed not," Red Robes said, turning his head to face her. "But I believe Dumbledore and Mrs. Potter there know exactly what I am here for."

"You can't have _that_, I'm afraid," Blaise's older self said firmly.

Blaise stared at herself. What was the woman talking about? Surely she didn't know what Red Robes was after.

"Ah, Mrs. Potter," Red Robes said, a faint note of amusement in his voice. "Surely your life for your daughter's is not such a price to pay."

Blaise felt her throat tighten. She wasn't sure what upset her more – the fact that her elder self knew exactly what Red Robes wanted or the fact that she didn't see fit to trade her own life for that of her child's.

"You know that it is much more than that," Dumbledore cut in quietly. "What you would ask is a power too vast for any man to tamper with."

"Oh, of course, but it is of such value to me," Red Robes said condescendingly. "Admirable though your sentiments are, I'm afraid I must have what I want one way or another. Your choice, Mrs. Potter."

Blaise watched her elder self. The woman looked almost unsure. Blaise couldn't believe the hesitation. This was only their daughter's life!

"Take me!" she said abruptly. "She may not be willing to go, but I am. Let Tristy go and take me instead."

"Blaise, no!" Harry said, grabbing her arm when she would have moved forward.

"If this saves Tristan's life, then I'm going to do it, Harry," she hissed, too angry to be afraid. Distantly, she felt a sort of astonishment. How this journey had changed her! "She's my daughter!"

Red Robes, meanwhile, was chuckling.

"That's very benevolent of you," he said softly. "Such noble intentions for a Slytherin – _and_ a Zabini."

"You seem awfully interested in Zabinis," Tristan gritted out. "What's the obsession about?"

"Merely a passing interest in a once noble bloodline," Red Robes told her conversationally. "Anyway, you're off the hook, my dear – " addressing the younger Blaise – "I'm afraid your blood is not yet at its full potency. You're elder replica here, however – she is exactly of an age when the blood is most powerful. I'm afraid it must be Mrs. Potter – or Miss Potter's life."

There was a lengthy pause. Blaise didn't understand what Red Robes meant. She and her older self had identical blood. What did that have to do with anything? At last, Dumbledore spoke.

"The choice must be Mrs. Potter's," he said quietly. "Blaise?"

"Fine," she said, glaring at Red Robes. Longbottom caught her sleeve, but she pulled gently away. "Get them home, Nev," she said so softly that Red Robes probably didn't hear, nodding around at the group. "Make sure we get back to our right time and that my daughter is safely delivered back to her father."

Slowly, she began to cross the meadow toward her daughter. Red Robes released Tristan and the girl began to inch toward her mother. Blaise clenched her fists as she watched. Her wand was clamped tightly in her hand, ready to use if it appeared that any harm was going to come to her daughter. She saw Harry's own wand concealed in his hand and even Draco looked ready to draw should necessity dictate action.

"Albus . . . " came Longbottom's voice uncertainly. "We cannot let him have her! Think of the consequences."

"He must not be allowed to travel back with Blaise," Dumbledore murmured back, his eyes fixed upon Red Robes.

"We need a distraction," Cedric murmured, eyeing his mother anxiously. "Something to divert him and give Blaise enough time to get to him before he can travel back."

"These children must be sent back," Dumbledore said, and Blaise peripherally caught his gesture at herself and her companions from the past. "They must be gone before I can return Red Robes, as they call him. Neville, Cedric, you know what I must ask of you."

"We're prepared," Longbottom said, gripping his wand and nodding to Cedric.

Blaise was diverted from their conversation by the movements of her daughter. Tristan drew level with Blaise – they passed. Red Robes kept his wand trained on her, ready to cast out if anyone moved. Blaise was ten feet away, eight, five, when –

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

The younger Blaise gasped at the harsh voice in their midst. She jumped backward. Longbottom stood with his wand outstretched and pointing at –

Pointing at _Draco_!

He was _dead_.

He lay perfectly still and unblemished; his eyes not even betraying surprise that he'd had no time to feel.

"Oh – oh, my –" Ginny stared, horrified, at Draco.

"Gin, look out!" Harry snarled, diving sideways and knocking her over in time to receive a second killing curse, this one cast by his own son.

"Harry!" Blaise fell to her knees beside his lifeless form. She stared up at Cedric, absolutely shocked. "What the hell are you doing!?"

"I hope I will be able to explain that someday, Mum," the young man said, looking thoroughly miserable and raising his wand to point at her. Blaise stared back.

"Mum!" Tristan broke into a run across the field as she saw what was happening.

"Blaise!" Ginny cried, reaching out to her.

Dumbledore was closer.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

The world vanished into darkness as Blaise died in a flash of harsh green light.

()

"No!" Tristan watched her mum fall to the ground. "No, no, _no_!"

She would have thrown herself down beside the woman, but was pulled away by her Aunt Gin. Dimly, through a haze of fury and pain roiling in her stomach, she noticed her brother staring at her with a look of abject regret in his eyes. She didn't think she'd ever loathed him as she did at that moment. This went beyond treachery – this had officially made him her enemy. Hayden and Dorian jumped away and placed themselves protectively in front of her. Hayden took a step forward to protect his mother, but she wouldn't let him.

Longbottom raised his wand, his eyes troubled but determined.

"Neville – no, please," Ginny stared at him in utter disbelief. Tristan had the impression that they had once been good friends. "Why –why are you doing this?"

"You can't be here, Gin," he said simply, although he looked genuinely sorry. "Trust me; it's for your own good."

"No!" Tristan felt Hayden trying to force his way in front of Aunt Gin, but the young woman wouldn't let him.

_"Avada Kedavra_!"

Ginny fell to the ground, her expression one of betrayal.

"Mum – mummy – no!" Hayden hit his knees beside the lifeless woman, taking her hand and bursting into completely undignified sobs.

"Blaise – he's getting away!" Dumbledore cried. Tristan, about to kneel beside Hayden, glanced numbly up in time to see the elder version of her mother draw her wand as Red Robes reached for the Time Turner that he'd evidently dropped in his surprise.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Blaise shouted, her voice dark.

Tristan shuddered as Red Robes fell. The defeat of their enemy seemed relatively unimportant now that they appeared surrounded by backstabbing family.

"So," she said blankly, her hand resting beside Dorian's on Hayden's shaking back. "Which of us is next, then?"

"No one else will die here today," Dumbledore told her, staring sorrowfully at the forms on the ground.

"How _could_ you?" Dorian demanded. "I mean – my god, that's the worst curse there is! Jesus, I thought they _trusted_ you!"

"They could not continue here," the old man said softly. "I'm sorry – I know you became close during your journey here."

"So just because they broke the law – trying to save me and Hayden – " Tristan said jerkily, feeling fury heat my blood.

"No, Miss Potter, _not_ just because they broke the law," Dumbledore told her. "On the contrary – Harry's rash actions have opened a way I did not see before of ending this conflict. It is indeed fortunate he owled me of his arrival. Now there is hope for us all."

"But did they have to die?" Hayden said, so softly that his voice was barely audible.

"What conflict?" Tristan snarled.

"Oh, yes, it was inevitable," Longbottom put in regretfully in answer to Hayden's question. "This was not their time and their presence here was doing little good."

"But with them gone," Tristan said slowly, her eyes turning dangerously from her approaching mother to her brother, who had remained silent throughout the confrontation, to Dumbledore. "We'll never be born because they don't exist anymore. You won't need to kill Hayden or I."

"Your deaths were not the doing of anyone here, I assure you," Dumbledore said firmly. "Like Mr. Potter, our goal was to protect you and many, many others."

"Some explanation," Dorian said resentfully.

"Suffice it to say," Dumbledore said slowly, "that our fates – all of them, very likely – will depend on the actions of Harry and his friends."

"Who are dead!" Hayden pointed out, dashing angrily at the tears on his pale face.

"In our time, indeed," Dumbledore said cryptically. "All we can do now is wait."

()

Twenty-three years prior to this exchange, at six-thirty in the morning, Harry Potter gave a shout and sat bolt upright in bed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, clapping a hand to his scar.

()

TBC

P.S. Remember, the story's not over yet!


	14. War

**A/N:** I know what you're all thinking . . . AT LAST!!! Has J.T. been under a rock for the last (checks time of last chapter upload) month-and-a-half?? The answer is, of course not! It's just that, as you will see, this chapter is exceptionally complicated. And it's **only part one of the final chapter**!! If I'm not exceptionally careful, there will be more holes in the plot than in my Swiss cheese sandwich. Bad joke, sorry. I'm totally excited that I'm FINALLY able to give you new material. Shout-outs to my fantastically patient and loyal and helpful and wonderful and silly and glompable beta, **XX**, who is all things wise and benevolent and thanks also to EVERY SINGLE REVIEWER!!! Your comments have ALL been read, considered, and possibly put to use in some way. The editing on earlier chapters continues, but I'm putting all my effort into completing the final chapter of this fic as soon as is humanly possible.

Loves to you all!!!

J.T.

P.S. **Quadruple glomps and shout-outs to all my F&I friends over at FictionAlley Park (hereafter known as FAP). You guys rock my socks and I loff you dearly!**

P.P.S. Sorry about the weird scene dividers **)PvsM( **I can't get anything else to show up (stupid computer!!).

**Disclaimer:** We solemnly swear we are up to no good – er, I mean, we own nothing. Yeah...

**)PvsM(**

Harry sat panting, staring at the red velvet hangings around his four-poster in utter disbelief. At first he thought he was dreaming and blinked rapidly against the scene. But no – the darkened dorm remained, with dawn light leaking through the window and across the stone floor. Neville's snores were clearly audible and Dean's occasional exclamation of "Red card – red card . . . ah, come on, ref!" added to the usual early-morning noise.

"Oi, mate – you okay?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. Ron was sitting up in his own bed, staring blearily at Harry through a mop of red fluff.

"Ro-Ron," he managed, staring in shock at his best friend. Ron was there – eighteen-year-old Ron, looking just as he had in seventh year! He, Harry, must really be back at Hogwarts. But that couldn't have been right. He'd been killed – killed by _Dumbledore_ –

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Harry shivered. No wonder his scar was smarting! He rubbed his forehead absently, thinking back. Yes, he had dived in front of Ginny, taking the curse meant for her. But Dumbledore couldn't have really just killed him – could he?

_Was it just a dream?_ he wondered.

"Hey – Harry."

Harry started again. Ron had crawled off his four-poster and was standing before Harry's, looking more awake and a bit anxious.

"You all right? You look like you've seen –"

"A ghost?" Harry finished.

Ron looked confused.

"What's so unusual about seeing a ghost?"

Harry didn't bother to answer. Had it all been a nightmare, then? He had had elaborate dreams before, particularly after Voldemort's rise to power in his fourth year. Could he have dreamt Tristy and Hayden? Cedric? Avalon? But it had all felt so real.

And what about Blaise?

Just the thought of her made him turn red. Before this dream or whatever it was, they had never really spoken at all. So the fact that he suddenly felt such deep emotions at the thought of her meant – meant what? That it hadn't been a dream?

He realized Ron was still eyeing him in a worried sort of way.

"Sorry – weird dream," he murmured, not sure if he was lying or not.

"Tell me about it," Ron said, his face clearing and his eyes rolling. "Last night I had this weird one about Mione. She was going to marrying Crookshanks and I was telling her no way, she should totally try dating Buckbeak, because he was more loyal and that – "

As Harry stared at his friend, his mind awhirl with memories of the dream or whatever it was, a new thought occurred to him.

"– and then suddenly, Vickie – you know, _Viktor_ Krum – was there and I cursed him and he turned into Malfoy's owl and started pecking my eyes out – "

"Ron, what's the date?"

"– which is painful you know, and – I'm sorry, what?" Ron broke off, staring at him in surprise.

"The date – what's the date?" Harry said, almost desperately.

"Dunno – the 25th or something."

"Of March?"

"Of course, of March." Ron was definitely looking concerned now. "Look, what's up, mate?"

"Nothing," Harry said blankly, racking his brain. "And – and do we have Quidditch today?"

"We've got a nightmare to get ready for with Slytherin this Friday, yeah," Ron said. "Er – look, why don't you come down and tell Mione and me what's up?"

"It was just a dream," Harry said faintly.

"Right." Ron clearly didn't believe him. "Well, why don't you tell us about your 'dream', then?"

"Okay."

Harry didn't know what he was saying by that time. All he knew was that he had just awoken on the morning he was due for detention with Malfoy. It was the day they had found Tristan's and Hayden's bodies in the entrance hall. How could he know if it was a dream or if it had all really happened, apart from waiting around in the entrance hall all day? By all accounts it had to have been a convoluted nightmare. After all, if it had really happened, how could he be waking up days before his intended departure?

For that matter, how could he be waking up at all? Hadn't he just been hit with Avada Kedavra?

A thought suddenly occurred to him. Of course, odds were that he _had_ simply dreamt the whole thing up as a result of stress, but if he hadn't, there were several people who could confirm the experience.

"All right," he said again, returning his attention to Ron, who was already pulling on his uniform. "But – look, I don't really feel like talking just now. Can I meet you and Mione at breakfast? I think I'll go back to sleep for an hour or so."

"Whatever, mate." Ron clearly didn't want to press him. "We'll save you some bacon."

Harry lay back and pulled his hangings shut, listening to Ron rummage through his trunk for his socks. Five minutes later, the dormitory door opened and closed behind him and Harry was left alone with Neville's snores. Carefully, Harry poked his head out and eyed his other dorm mates. Neville was clearly fast asleep. Dean and Seamus were breathing evenly and appeared to still be unconscious.

Quietly, Harry slipped out of bed and pulled a uniform and robes from his trunk. He climbed back behind the four-poster's hanging and dressed quickly. He didn't want Ron to come back in and find him wide awake. Stuffing his pajamas under his pillow, he climbed back out and fished round his trunk for his Invisibility Cloak. It was right where he'd left it – buried beneath one of Dudley's hideous old sweaters. Harry pulled it out and flung it round his shoulders, pulling the hood up over his head.

He slipped down the stairs to the common room, and was unsurprised to see his best friends sitting in armchairs by the fire.

"Ill?" Hermione was staying anxiously.

"Nah – I reckon it was a night terror or something like it," Ron said. "He shouted something – that's what woke me up. And he was definitely not telling me everything when I asked him what was up."

"Well, you know Harry," Hermione sighed, with a funny mixture of affection and exasperation in her voice. "He'll talk when he's ready."

Harry took a moment to study his two best friends, allowing his mind to drift back into the visions still stunningly clear in his mind. Dorian Weasley's freckled, boyish face came instantly to mind and Harry couldn't help smiling as he noticed how the features of both Ron and Hermione had blended in their eldest son to create a bizarre combination of Ron's looks and personality with Hermione's ability to read people so well.

"Come on," the latter said at last. "He'll be hiding up in the dorm until we leave or sneak out with the Invisibility Cloak to make sure we're gone. He's good at hiding."

"He said he'd see us at breakfast," Ron said, sounding rather defensive.

"We might as well go down, then."

"Naw – can we just wait, Mione? I'm – er, well – I think something's really wrong."

Hermione stared at him a moment, then reached out and laced her fingers through his.

"It's all right, Ron," she said quietly, getting up and moving over to his chair. "I worry about him, too."

Harry watched his friends for a moment, wondering if either of them had ever considered the possibility that they would one day get married and have six children. The thought made him smile again. Ron would have loved Dorian – _would_ love Dorian.

Because of course Dorian was real – right? Of course he was. Harry had just been standing beside him.

Or he thought he had been. The just-a-dream theory had yet to be disproved.

Moving quietly, Harry strode over to stand beside the girls' staircase. The first person he needed to talk to was Ginny. He only hoped he could get her attention without arousing suspicion from Ron or Hermione.

He waited twenty minutes, but no Ginny appeared and he began to worry – then to doubt. Of course it was still rather early and Ginny wasn't an early riser by nature. She was probably still asleep, untroubled by stupid dreams about the future . . .

"Look, Ron, it's getting late," Hermione said at last, making Harry jump. He turned to watch them again. "Either he's asleep or he's waiting for us to leave, but I just don't think Harry's coming down."

"Right."

Harry felt a guilty lurch in his gut at the disappointed look on Ron's face.

"Well," the redhead said, "I reckon I'll go get my books and we can be off."

They left, Ron going up to his and Harry's dorm and Hermione heading for her own. Harry made sure to give her plenty of room as she passed him up the girls' staircase. As she vanished, a new set of footsteps came clopping down, passing Hermione and coming into the common room.

"Psst – Ella!"

It was Ella Gray, one of Ginny's sixth year dorm mates. She looked around in confusion and Harry quickly pulled the cloak off.

"Oh! Morning, Harry," the brunette said brightly as he appeared, not looking in the least surprised to see the cloak. It was, after all, an open secret in Gryffindor Tower that he had it.

"Is Ginny up yet?" Harry asked quickly, holding the cloak ready to throw back over should Hermione come running down.

Ella gave him a sharp, almost mischievous look.

"Dunno. Her hangings were closed – I couldn't see if she was in bed or not. I could run up and check, if you'd like."

"Er – no, thanks," Harry mumbled, feeling rather deflated and realizing that Ella probably thought he was waiting to ask Ginny out or something dumb like that. "I'll just see her at breakfast, I guess."

Ella shrugged.

"I'll let her know you were asking after her," she offered, before joining Colin Creevey and leaving the common room.

Harry stood still for a moment after they left, his insides in knots. He could wait around until Ginny came down, but on a normal day, Ginny wasn't out of bed until ten minutes before class. At least, that was what Hermione had told him last summer when Ginny hadn't appeared until noon or later every day. He had never have time to catch her and make it to class. Anyway, he was still disinclined to speak with his best friends and if he waited around, they were sure to catch him. He would just have to hope he ran into Ginny at lunch.

Because if he _hadn't_ been dreaming, Tristan and Hayden might still come back in time and might still get killed. If he could only confirm that it hadn't been a dream . . .

_Why not ask Blaise_? he wondered fleetingly. But no – odds were it hadn't been real and if so, explaining to Blaise that he had just had a rather graphic dream that involved them snogging more often than not would probably earn him a good hexing.

Unfortunately, there was only one other person he could ask.

_Oh, right –Malfoy_, his brain smirked at him. That_ would go over famously_.

If he was wrong about all this, Malfoy would never, _ever_ let him live it down.

With a frustrated sigh, Harry headed for the portrait hole, stuffing the Invisibility Cloak down the front of his robe for later use, and deciding to ride the day out and see what happened. There was still a chance that he could stop Red Robes alone, if in fact, there _was_ such a person. He could station himself somewhere in the entrance hall sometime just after dinner. He was sure that there had been no witnesses to the murder before – otherwise it would have been all over the school. Harry guessed that Hayden, Tristan, and Red Robes' arrival must have fallen somewhere between seven and eight o'clock. So all he would have to do would be to hide himself in the entrance hall and wait.

_Of course, there's a good chance that none of them even exist_, he thought wryly. In which case, he would go to detention with Malfoy and get on with life. That was, if he could forget the incredible events in his dream. His daughter – _and _son.

And Blaise.

"Potter."

Harry blinked. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't realized how quickly his legs had carried him to the almost-deserted entrance hall. And standing before him . . .

Harry stared. It wasn't as though seeing Draco Malfoy was unusual, but – well, it was almost like seeing him in a totally different light. He felt strangely as though he knew more about Malfoy than he should. He didn't feel the volatile resentment rise in his chest the way it had so many times before. It wasn't as though he felt friendly towards his nemesis – it was more that he felt a reluctant kind of acceptance for the Slytherin.

"Draco, wait, I really need to tell you –"

Harry felt a bucket of ice settle in his stomach as Blaise Zabini came skidding to halt beside her housemate. Freshly showered and garbed in expensive robes, she looked absolutely stunning. _And _her hair was long again, he noticed with a jolt. But he was being silly – by all accounts she had never cut it.

_Why would I be reacting this strongly if it was all only a dream_? he wondered yet again, making a conscious effort not to gape, stare, or otherwise embarrass himself in front of the girl.

Said girl had broken off at the sight of him and met his gaze with a look of extreme caution.

"Potter," she said guardedly. Harry felt the ice slip lower – she looked suspicious. And why shouldn't she? He was gawking at her like a moron and they had hardly ever spoken to each other.

"Zabini," he nodded back, biting down the urge to call her 'Blaise.' Turning away so he wouldn't have to think about her, he said, "Malfoy – what do you want?"

"Nothing you've got," the blonde assured him acidly. Well, some things didn't change. "Snape just wanted me to remind you that we've got detention this evening."

"As if I could forget," Harry said, rather bitterly. Whatever wacky misadventures he might or might not have recently experienced, detention with Snape still made him feel ill. As he suppressed a shudder at the thought of the unpleasant evening he had to face, an idea occurred to him. Maybe he could coax a response out of Malfoy without asking point-blank if he remembered having just spent two weeks in the future.

"Right," he said carefully. "About detention – I may be a bit late. I have – something I need to take care of for – er, Dumbledore."

"Oh, really?" Malfoy sneered. "And what's that, exactly?"

"Dunno," Harry said, thinking fast. "But I'm supposed to meet him tonight in the entrance hall – sometime _before eight_."

Something flickered in Malfoy's pale eyes, but it wasn't quite enough. Harry tried again.

"He said," Harry went on, trying to keep an eye on both Blaise and Malfoy for any sign that they were reading into his meaning, "that it was a matter of life and death."

Bingo! Blaise's eyes widened and she put her hand to her mouth. Malfoy stared at him, his eyes sharpening. He eyed Harry in a calculating manner.

"This 'matter of life and death,'" he said, dropping his voice as a group of Hufflepuffs passed them. "It wouldn't have anything to do with – avoiding _future_ issues with Snape?"

Slowly, Harry nodded.

Abruptly, Blaise threw herself into his arms. Completely unprepared for this, Harry stumbled backward and was only saved from a nasty fall by the banister at his back. What she said next put him off still more.

"Oh, thank Merlin my hair is normal again!"

"Oh, that's nice!" Harry said, pulling back and glaring at her. "After all we've been through and you're just happy you have your hair back."

"Not here!" Malfoy hissed, dragging Blaise backward by her robes before she could come up with a sufficient rejoinder. "Come on, Blaise, get a grip! What kind of Slytherin throws themself at a Gryffindor in broad daylight?"

"Is that a question or –"

"Shut up!"

Harry felt a shaky grin spread across his face.

"I never would have believed that anything you had to say would make me feel better, Malfoy," he said, raising his eyebrow.

"That makes two of us."

They glanced up as Ginny came slowly down the stairs. Harry turned quickly back and saw Malfoy swallow and offer the redhead a very poor attempt at a sneer. Thankful though he was that they were all on the same page, he felt that the four of them behaving in a semi-friendly way in broad daylight, as Malfoy put it, was asking for trouble.

Blaise seemed to be feeling the same way.

"Come on," she said quietly. "We need to talk."

She turned and led the way toward the double doors that led onto the front lawn.

"There's a little alcove set into the side of the steps outside," Ginny said. "No one will be coming out this early and even if they did, they couldn't see us from the stairs –"

"Harry!"

Harry whirled. Ron and Hermione were coming down the stairs from Gryffindor Tower. Glancing quickly around, Harry realized that the wall was blocking their view and they could probably only see him.

"Quick!" he hissed at Malfoy. "Say something terrible!"

"Like what?" Malfoy shot back, looking confused.

"Like this: Oh, that's nice, Draco! I thought we had an understanding and now I find that you're following this little redheaded bint around! Oh, how _could_ you?" And with a backhand that Malfoy only just pulled back from in time to avoid receiving serious injury, Blaise let out a wail and ran out through the double doors.

"Right," he muttered, staring after with something akin to admiration. Then he turned back to Harry with a scowl and said loudly, "We're not through here, Potter."

He turned and followed Blaise through the double doors.

"What the hell was _that_ about?" Ron demanded as he came up behind them.

"The usual," Ginny said, and Harry noticed her hand travel up to cover her twitching lips.

"The usual being . . . ?" Hermione prompted, eyeing them both beadily.

"Insulting the family, and Harry, and my existence in general," Ginny said, just managing to sound annoyed about it. "Anyway, Harry and I were just off for a walk around the lake."

"I thought you wanted a bit of a lie-in, mate," Ron said, looking a little hurt. "We waited for you."

"Sorry – I couldn't sleep and I didn't feel much like talking," Harry said apologetically, feeling guilty. "I was going to sneak out for a walk and I met Gin on the way and then we ran into Malfoy."

"Uh-huh." Ron still looked hurt.

"Er – perhaps we should go in to breakfast?" Hermione suggested tentatively.

"You two go on," Ginny said quickly. "I wanted to ask Harry about something."

"We'll walk round the lake and meet you in the Great Hall in ten minutes?" Harry offered, feeling the guilt gnaw a bit deeper.

"All right," Hermione said, with another piercing look. "Come on, Ron." She led the reluctant redhead away by the hand.

"What a nosy prat," Ginny said unsympathetically, watching her brother's retreating form in genuine annoyance.

"He's just worried – I think I gave him a fright this morning," Harry told her quietly, leading the way outside. "I guess I shouted a bit before I woke up and I kept asking him random things about the date and Quidditch. I reckon I would have been worried in his position."

"I don't think I yelled or anything," Ginny said as they descended the steps. "I was really cold and sweaty, though. I thought it was a terrible dream so I stayed buried in my bed until Ella was gone and the others were in the loo. Then I snuck out. Come on – hopefully Blaise and Draco found the little niche thing." She led him down the remaining steps and then stepped around the railing and followed it back toward the junction of the staircase and the building. Suddenly she stopped.

"Harry," she said in a low voice. "I know it's weird, but – I'm so glad it wasn't a dream!"

"Me, too," Harry said, looking down at the ground. "So – what do you reckon? Will we grow up remembering how we went forward and messed with the future?"

"Doubt it," Ginny said. "Remember, our older selves didn't seem to have any memory of doing it themselves." She gave a frustrated sigh. "I really, _really_ wish we'd known more about time before we got into this mess."

"You're telling me!" Harry muttered self-reproachfully. "I mean, I knew how going _back_ worked; that's pretty straightforward. But the future – well, it's different."

"We'll know tonight whether anything we did made any difference," Ginny said. "If Tris and Hayden still come back in time, we might be able to save them. If they don't – well, we won't need to save them."

Harry shook his head as they came to the little alcove Ginny had described. Sure enough, Blaise and Malfoy sat on the single stone bench, talking quietly and looking grim.

"We've got ten minutes before Ron and Mione come looking for me and Gin," Harry told them without preamble. "What're we going to do?"

He fully expected Malfoy to insist, once again, that they keep their noses out of things that weren't their business anymore. He also rather expected Malfoy to point out that the _last_ time they had tried to be useful, they'd all been killed by someone who was _supposed _to be on their side. Well, not killed exactly, but –

"Like you said, Potter, we need to be in the entrance hall between seven and eight," the blonde said. "If Hayden and Tristy show up, we get to Red Robes before he gets to them. If they don't – well, we'll know we got something right."

They all stared at him.

"Are you suggesting," Ginny said slowly, "that we do something to help someone else?"

"My charitable nature amazes even me, sometimes," Malfoy said dryly. "Yes, I'm suggesting we give 'em a hand. Hell, the kid's my son and Potter's pipsqueak daughter was actually growing on me."

"I'm sure she'll be pleased to know," Blaise said, with a small smile, her eyes flicking up to meet Harry's. Harry felt the familiar melting sensation in his stomach and a bit of 'jelloid knees' coming on, but he had enough command of himself to return her smile and not do anything stupid like melt into a puddle at her feet.

"Moving on," Malfoy said pointedly.

Harry cleared his throat.

"Right," he said. "So, the entrance hall?"

"I think we should each be in a corner," Blaise said. "We don't know where exactly they'll all appear and one of us has to be in range to get Red Robes."

"Provided Red Robes shows up at all," Malfoy pointed out.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked.

"Well, we were all killed before we saw what happened to him," the Slytherin said grimly. "For all we know, he could be setting a trap for us or something, with the help of Dumbledore and Company from the future."

"Let's look at it this way," Blaise said slowly, her face tense. "Longbottom, Dumbledore, and Cedric killed us, but we're not dead, are we? And I remember Ced saying he hoped he could explain it to me someday. Clearly they knew that killing us wasn't really _killing us_."

"You mean they knew we'd get sent back?" Harry asked, wondering why he hadn't thought of this before. Then he remembered the reverie he had forgotten in the wake of Draco's surprising speech. "That does make sense. They let us in to Avalon – they were expecting us. And Dumbledore _did_ take us out into the field to –"

"– send us to our proper time," Ginny quoted, snapping her fingers. "He just hadn't gotten around to saying _how_ he intended to do that!"

"Makes sense," Blaise said slowly. "And he said – something about an owl."

"I sent him one when he first arrived at Red's Park," Harry explained. "I guess he got it and knew we shouldn't be there."

"You suppose he knew Red Robes was after us, too?" Ginny asked. "Nev said someone let him in, and none of them seemed surprised to see him."

"Like they knew he'd follow us and they might have a chance to catch him if he showed up in Avalon?" Blaise said, sounding doubtful. "In that case, they might have caught him and we wouldn't have anything to worry about, would we?"

"All of which brings us back to Red Robes' motive – why was he there in the first place?" Malfoy said, rubbing his temples. "I'm getting a headache!"

"Well, he tried to swap Tristy for future me, didn't he?" Blaise said. "Obviously, he wanted me for some reason."

"Not you, either – he said he wanted the older you because _your_ blood wasn't potent enough yet," Harry pointed out. "Plus, the guy had a Time-Turner. If he'd wanted just any old you, he'd've gone back and taken you when you were a baby, wouldn't he? You know, completely defenseless, as opposed to being a fully trained witch."

"'Witch' with a 'b', you mean?" Malfoy added, lifting his head out of his hands to reveal a wicked smirk.

"You're one to talk," Harry retorted, pulling Blaise toward him protectively.

Ginny giggled so hard she snorted.

"Oh, very attractive, little weasel," Malfoy said, but his smirk wasn't the condescending smirk of old, but rather a look of supreme amusement at her expense.

"He's got a point, you know, oh albino one," Ginny sniggered. "By the way, Blaise, isn't it wonderful having long hair again?"

"Brilliant!" Blaise agreed, running a hand through hers.

"Now that we've gone completely off-topic," Harry said, still smiling.

"Right," Ginny agreed, trying to control herself.

Malfoy nodded. "So – Blaise is a bi –"

"No, you git!" Ginny snapped, slapping his arm none-too-gently. "Red Robes. He wanted the _future_ Blaise, not the seventeen-year-old."

"What could he have wanted her blood for?" Malfoy murmured, his smirk sliding into a thoughtful frown.

"Her forty-year-old blood," Harry corrected absently.

"All right, let's back up," Ginny suggested. "Dumbledore is hiding with Blaise and Nev in Avalon. Avalon, as a place, is important. It's protected by ancient magic. Obviously, it's no accident that they're there. If someone is after Blaise then hiding her there with Neville, who we know became an Auror and Dumbledore, arguably the most powerful wizard of our time, explains a lot. It stands to reason that you – " indicating the Blaise sitting before her – "left your family to protect yourself and them, _not_ because you were having an affair with Neville."

"Seems likely," Harry jumped in, noticing that Blaise was opening and closing her mouth indignantly, probably trying to decide how to tell Ginny just what she thought of Neville. "What else do we know about Avalon?"

"Merlin opened one of the first magic schools there," Malfoy said, smirking at Blaise's volatile expression. "Before that, he brought the Holy Grail there to be protected by his magic and the monks who lived there."

"You were listening to Neville?" Ginny asked in surprise.

"Nothing better to do," he retorted defensively.

"Sure," Ginny said, with a little grin.

"What?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Ginny said quickly, covering her mouth. "So – I know we weren't there very long, but did anyone hear what happened to the Grail?"

"It's probably still there," Blaise guessed. "I figured it was connected with that weird tree thing that Dumbledore said was full of magic, but I didn't give it much thought. It might be the magic of the Grail protecting Avalon in the first place."

"It's got to be important," Harry agreed. "It supposedly has incredible powers. It holds the blood of Jesus Christ, and is supposed to give the drinker youth and eternal life."

"It makes more sense for Red Robes to want the Grail, then, than Blaise," Malfoy said, scratching his head. "Hell! This doesn't make any sense!"

"Harry, we've got to head back," Ginny said suddenly, glancing around. "I'm sure we've been gone ten minutes."

"One more thing," Blaise said quickly. "If Red Robes _does_ show up, should we – should we _kill _him?"

They stared at each other grimly, unsure what to think.

"Well," Ginny said at length. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea. I mean, no one else knows what he's done. Which ever of us performed the Killing Curse –" she shuddered – "would definitely be sent to Azkaban. And to be honest –" she hesitated. "Well, I dunno if I could bring myself to do it."

Harry felt his insides clench. He had always assumed that one day he or someone else would have to use Avada Kedavra on Voldemort and having a feeling that he would be the one to do it, he had always tried to reconcile himself to the idea of killing. But faced with such a decision now . . .

"No** – **we shouldn't," Malfoy agreed.

Again, they all gaped at him.

"Would you lot stop that?" he snapped irritably. "I'm not a complete monster, you know."

"Well –" Harry began, but Ginny elbowed him hard.

"Why shouldn't we kill him, Draco?" she asked, while Harry resentfully rubbed his ribs.

"Because he had a Time-Turner," Malfoy explained, glaring at Harry. "We have no idea what time he's from. We kill him, he might do what we did – snap back to his correct time like we did. Then he'd be lost and he could come back and kill Tristy and Hayden again."

They all thought about this for a moment.

"Agreed," Harry said at last. "Stunning or disarming. Anything to keep him in our time."

"What do we do if we catch him?" Ginny asked nervously.

"Take him to Dumbledore," Harry said promptly.

"Fine. Now you two need to go sedate Weasley before he sends a search party," Malfoy said, waving them away.

"Where can we meet tonight?" Blaise asked.

"How about the Owlry?" Ginny suggested. "Then Harry and I can go down under the Invisibility Cloak and you two can pretend to be out for a stroll."

"Ron and Hermione will expect me to go, because we've got detention tonight," Harry said to Malfoy.

"And Ron won't care where I am," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Prat."

Malfoy smirked at her appreciatively.

"Look, since you two supposedly have detention anyway, why don't Weasley and I go under the cloak and you two can pretend to be going to detention," Blaise offered.

"And if anyone meets us along the way, it's not like it'll be extremely suspicious that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are suddenly getting along," Malfoy pointed out sarcastically.

"You can argue all-l-l-l the way down, then," Ginny said brightly, winking mischievously at Harry. Malfoy snorted in reluctant acquiescence and Blaise gave Ginny an appreciative look.

"Well, see you tonight, then," Harry said, taking Ginny's arm and pulling her out of the alcove. "Come on."

"Potter."

Harry turned back to Blaise questioningly. She hesitated, then reached out and pulled his mouth down to hers for a brief, intense kiss. Harry felt a current pass from his toes to the tips of his ears at the well-remembered warmth of her lips on his. She pulled back, looking a bit flushed. The look they shared spoke volumes; relief that they were still alive and that their feelings for each other hadn't changed in the slightest.

"Blaise, what have I told you about corrupting the innocents?" Malfoy's annoyed drawl came from behind them.

"Jealous, Malfoy?" Harry said with a cocky grin. He squeezed Blaise's hand and then followed a smiling Ginny from the alcove.

"Extremely, Potter."

Harry turned to stare at him in astonishment for a moment. Malfoy glowered almost balefully back at him and suddenly Harry understood.

"Well, get a move on, then," he said simply, allowing his eyes to flicker to Ginny for a moment. Malfoy's followed unconsciously, but only for a moment. Silently, Harry turned back with Ginny and the Gryffindors made their way back up to the Great Hall.

"I think you're warming up to him," Ginny said abruptly as they mounted the steps.

"What – to _Malfoy_?" Harry scoffed.

"Sure," Ginny shrugged. "I mean, you still snipe at each other – some things never change. Even in the future you did that. But you don't react so – so viciously to each other anymore."

Harry opened his mouth to deny this, but he couldn't. She was right – Malfoy was far from being his favorite person. But his better understanding the blonde's character made it easier for him to endure his company. Harry thought back to his reaction that morning upon first seeing Malfoy. He hadn't felt hostile or any of that. He certainly remembered his feelings about the blonde before their escapade and they were vastly different from his feelings now.

It was a shock to discover that he didn't even dislike Malfoy anymore.

"It's funny how alike you two are, actually," Ginny went on, oblivious to Harry's reveries. "You're both sort of dry and sarcastic. You're both loyal, in your own way. You're both complete introverts."

"But – but he's pale as death," Harry said, horrified at being compared to the Slytherin. Sure, he didn't really dislike him anymore, but there were lines still to be drawn! "And he's a Slytherin."

"Oh, for goodness sake, Harry!" Ginny snapped in exasperation. "Weren't Tristy and Hayden obvious examples of the similarities between the Houses? Tristy, the Slytherin, acted more like a Gryffindor than Hayden. Hayden was everything Slytherin except that he wasn't one! Didn't _you_ almost get sorted into Slytherin?"

"How do you know about that?" Harry demanded, coloring slightly.

"I heard you talking to Ron and Hermione, of course," she said impatiently. "But look at you – practically sorted into Slytherin and yet you're every Gryffindor's idol! Just because you're sorted into one House doesn't mean you don't possess qualities from all the others. Hermione, for example. Neville. Luna. The list goes on."

Harry thought about this. But it was true – Ginny was absolutely right – again. Gryffindors avoided Slytherins mainly out of pride. Slytherins avoided Gryffindors to uphold some sort of reputation they fancied they had. But the Houses were almost mirror images of each other. What might have happened if he _hadn't_ met Ron on the train and had accepted Malfoy's friendship in first year?

Harry was still deep in thought about this when Ginny led him into the Great Hall.

"About time, too!" Ron called as they approached the Gryffindor table. Harry sank into a seat beside Hermione, still lost in thought and Ginny slid in next to Ron across the table.

"Anything wrong?" Hermione asked. Her question was general, but clearly directed at Harry.

"No," he lied, spearing a bit of ham on the end of his fork.

"Ron said you had a nightmare," Hermione pressed. "It wasn't – well, it wasn't a _fifth year_ kind of nightmare, was it?"

She meant was he still having nightmares that turned out to be frighteningly accurate representations of future events. This had happened throughout his fifth year and, although he hadn't made an issue out of it, a few times in his first four years at Hogwarts as well. No one could explain why it happened – Dumbledore's best guess, when applied to for his opinion, was that it had something to do with Harry's connection to Voldemort via the rebounded Killing Curse.

Harry suddenly realized that in a funny kind of way, he was relieved that they had Red Robes on their hands. He was a most welcome distraction from the constant pressure of Voldemort. It would be equally nice if they managed to catch him. Triumph was beginning to feel quite alien to Harry.

"No," he finally answered Hermione's question, realizing that his companions were staring expectantly at him. "Nothing like that."

"You're sure?" Ron asked doubtfully.

"Yes," Harry said in exasperation. "I'd know if it was. Those dreams are distinctive – this one – um, wasn't."

"So," Hermione went on after a pause. "Do you remember it?"

"Er –" Harry threw a glance at Ginny, who shook her head minutely. "No – not really. I think it was – er, about Malfoy and someone else." He didn't want to lie outright to Ron and Hermione, so half-truths would have to do.

"Malfoy?" Ron shuddered. "I'd have been yelling, too!"

Hermione tutted at him and Harry had the sudden, wicked urge to tell Hermione what _Ron_ had been dreaming about. He resisted, feeling that he had given Ron a bad enough time this morning, first by yelling him awake and then ditching him for his little sister's company.

"Yeah," Harry said, throwing a glance across the Great Hall. Malfoy and Blaise had taken seats at the Slytherin table. Blaise was popping slices of fruit absentmindedly into her mouth, staring at nothing. Malfoy was chatting with one of his Quidditch teammates, looking as though he hadn't a care in the world.

Harry could only wish he possessed such skill himself. He had a feeling it was going to be a tense day.

**)PvsM(**

In fact, Draco had no idea what he was saying to Jason Higgs. He was letting his mouth deal with it while his mind roamed free and wild. His and Blaise's chat with Ginny and Potter had given him a lot to think about. It was frustrating, being almost positive that something would happen and not being able to do much to prepare. Their best chance was catching Red Robes and then convincing Dumbledore to give him Veritaserum.

Draco had wondered in the beginning about just going to Dumbledore and letting _him_ catch Red Robes. After all, Dumbledore was one of the best duelers of the century. If he had a go, they would surely get Red Robes. But as Draco thought about it, he realized that there might be good reasons for leaving the old man out of this as well. To begin with, Potter had originally stolen a Time-Turner from McGonagall, which was very illegal. As they had reappeared in their present several days prior to the day he had actually stolen it, Draco assumed it would still be in McGonagall's office, but the fact remained that there _had been _a stolen Time-Turner involved and they would all be in for it if anyone found out _before _they caught Red Robes and could prove the theft necessary. Also, thus far they had had no visitors from the future and if they _didn't_ come tonight there was no need to alarm anyone else on the score of their bad conduct in messing with time (also highly illegal).

There was also the chance that, after their subjection to the Killing Curse, Potter was no longer sure whether or not to trust Dumbledore. Draco certainly didn't know what to think. Everyone was acting so – well, so unlike themselves that it was difficult to rely on what one thought one knew about the people involved. For a good while, he'd been convinced that Blaise was behind it all, but Red Robes had snatched Tristan in the midst of _two_ Blaises and then tried to barter for one of them later. Draco saw enough evidence to convince him that Blaise was completely innocence. And then there was Potter's son. Draco hadn't trusted Cedric in the beginning, either, but Tristan had put such faith in him that it was hard not to trust her judgment (after all, she _had_ known him the longest). And he had gone and betrayed them to their deaths – sort of.

And Neville Longbottom, for Merlin's sake!

"Damn it!" Blaise muttered next to him. "I hate not being able to do anything!"

She wasn't really speaking to him. Her gaze was fixed on the table, one hand tangled in her long, dark hair. A moment later, obviously not realizing that he had heard her, she lifted her gaze and sent a piercing look toward the Gryffindor table.

"For Merlin's sake, stop staring at him!" Draco snapped under his breath, his own level of irritation rising several notches.

"And bloody Creevey got the Quaffle, of course, so I – sorry, did you say something, Draco?" Higgs asked, blinking at him.

"No – go on," Draco said, dismissively.

"I'm not staring!" Blaise muttered at him.

"You are!" he insisted out of the corner of his mouth, careful to keep his eyes on Higgs.

"Not," she mumbled peevishly.

"Are," he coughed into his napkin.

"Who's Blaise staring at?" Pansy asked eagerly across the table, eyeing her dorm mate.

To Draco's surprise, Blaise ignored her and went back to her breakfast. She also ignored Draco most determinedly. This suited Draco fine. It was difficult to argue, listen attentively, and be deep in thought at the same time, even for him.

However, since deep thought on the subject only resulted in another headache, Draco eventually gave up, told Higgs rather abruptly that he had some work to complete before class, and left the Great Hall.

He was less than half way across the entrance hall when Ginny caught up with him.

"So," she said, as he came to a halt and turned to look at her. "Where're you off to?"

"Dunno," he admitted, realizing with a small smirk that it had been around this time the following morning that she had originally jumped him here and told him to leave off Potter. What bizarre changes two technically non-existent weeks had wrought, he thought.

"Oh." Ginny looked down. "Er – fancy a walk round the lake?"

"What, aren't you worried your brother'll get suspicious?" he asked, rather surprised at the invitation.

She shrugged.

"He's too busy worrying about Harry to notice," she said flatly. He quirked an eyebrow and she hurried on. "Not that he's always like that. I mean, he _does_ care. But Harry's got a lot on his mind right now and I know –"

"I didn't ask for an explanation, you know," he said. "If your brother wants to ignore you, bully for him."

She stared resentfully back at him, her eyes clouding.

"There's no need to be nasty about it," she said quietly. "I know you're better than that."

"How?" he retorted coldly. "Two weeks doesn't make you an expert." Why was he feeling so defensive all of a sudden? They both knew that their two weeks spent in close proximity had changed _everything_.

"Except that it _does_," she snapped, her hands flying to her hips in a gesture that reminded Draco a bit of Tristy. "Forget it, _Draco_. We _all_ know you – and each other – very well by now. Even Harry admitted –" but she broke off quickly, looking away again.

"What?" Draco demanded. "What did Potter say?"

"It's his business to tell you," Ginny mumbled. Clearing her throat, she looked back at him, her expression dark. "Anyway, I can't speak for Harry or Blaise, but I know something's different between you and I."

He stared at her, feeling a swirl of unfamiliar emotion in his stomach. Clenching his teeth, he bit out, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Weasley."

"Of course not," she said quietly, her expression shifting from angry to hurt in a minute. "Of course not." She stared at him for a long moment, her penetrating gaze making Draco want to squirm. He didn't – Malfoys didn't squirm – but his insides lurched a bit as he stared determinedly back. He knew perfectly well why he was reacting to her this way – chances were, so did she. But he was far from ready to admit it, or allow her the power over him that, deep down, he knew she already had.

The long moment passed when Ginny, disgusted or hurt, abruptly turned and strode away without a backward glance. This sudden departure took Draco completely by surprise and it took him a moment to find his voice.

"Hey!" he called after her retreating back, hurrying to catch up as she mounted the stairs, evidently heading back to Gryffindor Tower. Her pace didn't slow. If anything, she sped up.

"Oi, Weasley!" he tried again, taking the steps between them two at a time. "I'm still talking to you."

"Whoopee," Ginny called back sardonically, her pace quickening still more.

"Just – just wait a minute!" he said, trying to be patient. Technically, he _had_ been the one causing offense, after all.

"Why, so you can blow me off again?" she demanded, stepping off into the second-floor corridor.

"Where're you going?" he asked, evasively.

"Charms!" she snapped, striding along.

"Without your books?" he couldn't help sniggering.

Ginny swore.

"Colorfully put, Miss Weasley," came a new voice from just behind Draco. It took the blonde a considerable amount of self-restraint not to jump three feet in the air like Ginny. Both froze, and then pivoted slowly to face the twinkling blue eyes and shock of white hair that was Albus Dumbledore.

"Headmaster," they both mumbled.

"Miss Weasley, Mr. Malfoy," he said, his lip twitching. "And how are you both this fine morning?"

"Fine, sir." Draco felt as though he had been caught rule breaking.

"Good, good!" Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. "A goodnight's sleep does wonders for the spirit, does it not?"

Draco's head snapped up and he stared at the headmaster. Peripherally, he noticed Ginny tense.

"I – I guess it does," he said cautiously. "Except," he added, watching the old man carefully, "when you get nightmares and the like."

No doubt about it. Dumbledore's eyes sharpened, just for an instant. Then the look was gone, and he nodded in acquiescence.

"Indeed – on the other hand, a nightmare can be a very enlightening thing," he added. "Mr. Potter has had a number of strange dreams that have been very – revealing." Dumbledore seemed lost in thought. Then he blinked and returned his attention to Ginny and Draco.

"Well, well," he said, beaming at the pair of them. "I expect you both need to get off to class."

"Yes, sir," they both said, sharing a meaningful glance.

"Good morning, Ginny – Draco," the headmaster said, turning and strolling off down the corridor, probably toward his office.

"Well," Ginny said, blinking after him. "That was –"

"He knows," Draco cut her off. He was sure of it. All that rubbish about nightmares – what were the odds that he had just randomly pulled a topic like that out of his overlarge hat?

"Maybe." Ginny glanced nervously at him. "But – well, Draco, he killed us before, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but look where we ended up," Draco said, the headache returning. "We didn't die. If he'd meant us to – well, he's powerful enough and knows more than enough about magic to nail us if he'd wanted to. I can't believe I'm defending the old bat."

Ginny gave him a small smile.

"Me, neither," she said. "It's supposed to be me doing that."

Slowly she turned and led the way back toward the stairs. She seemed lost in thought.

"Why'd you originally come this way, anyway?" Draco asked, trying to conquer the silence. He couldn't stop thinking about the puzzles that were yet to be solved and he was getting tired of possessing such a one-track mind.

"Charms, remember?" she said. She sighed. "I don't really want to go to class, actually. I'd really rather the whole day just passed so we can get Red Robes."

"Damned annoying to have to sit around waiting," he agreed. He paused. "If I poisoned you, you wouldn't have to go to class."

She actually laughed.

"Oh, Draco," she sighed, grinning at him.

"What?" he muttered defensively, following her up the stairs. "I was serious."

**)PvsM(**

Blaise watched Ginny wander out of the Great Hall after Draco, and smirked. She doubted anyone else had noticed – except maybe Potter.

She glanced across the hall and sure enough his eyes were on the doors as they swung shut behind the redhead. He wore a most peculiar expression; he looked both amused and worried, his forehead furrowed in thought. Blaise felt her smirk slide almost imperceptibly into a smile as she watched him. He didn't notice, but ran a hand through his lengthening hair, then removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

Blaise continued to watch as Granger, seated beside him, leaned over and rested a hand on his arm, clearly asking concernedly after him. Blaise felt a stab of jealousy in her chest, but he simply turned his head a bit and offered her a reassuring smile, returning her inquiry quietly.

Suddenly he lifted his head and was staring directly back at her. Blaise was so surprised that for a moment she held his gaze. He looked surprised to catch her watching him, but after a moment he offered her an almost wicked smile.

And Blaise blushed!

She tore her gaze away, determined to look anywhere but at him. She couldn't believe it. Never had a boy made her blush! She was always the one in control, the one to provoke the blushing. And now here she was – Blaise Zabini, seductress extraordinaire – with her cheeks burning, because of the suggestive smile of Harry Potter, Hogwarts' number one good-boy.

She was infinitely grateful that Draco was gone.

"_Harry Potter_?"

Blaise glanced up to see Pansy gaping at her in a most unattractive way.

"You were staring at _Potter_?" Pansy demanded incredulously.

"Of course not," Blaise snapped, eyes returning to her bowl of fruit.

"You're blushing, Blaise," Pansy said, now absolutely disbelieving. Blaise could feel her housemate's beady gaze on her. "Since when is he even close to your league?"

_Since I discovered I'm going to have his babies and that I'm in love with him_, she thought.

Wait – she was _in love with him_?

Oh, no.

"Oh, no-no-no!" she moaned, dropping her head into her arms. "Oh, goddess, no!"

"What is _with _you this morning?" Pansy demanded. "First you fight with Draco, then you spend breakfast mentally undressing Potter, and now you're talking to yourself!"

"Leave me alone, Pans," Blaise said into her arms. "Draco can rot and I _wasn't_ looking at Potter."

"Well, you were staring at _someone_ at the Gryff table," Pansy retorted. Blaise lifted her head out of her arms and saw Pansy squinting across the hall. Her eyes widened in horror. "_Pul-eese_ tell me you weren't eyeballing Weasley!"

"For Merlin's sake, give it a rest!" Blaise snarled, pushing back her chair and getting quickly to her feet. She ignored the startled looks of some of the surrounding Slytherins. "I'm not in the mood for the third degree right now."

"And you're moody," Pansy mumbled as Blaise stalked out of the hall with her nose in the air. Once the door closed on her and she stood, mercifully alone, in the deserted entrance hall Blaise wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. It was just too much. She leaned heavily against one of the stone pillars beside the double doors to the Great Hall and stared bleakly at the ceiling.

Beside her the door opened and closed quietly and Blaise quickly looked up.

"What're you doing out here?" Blaise demanded, rather more harshly than she meant to.

"Well, you seemed so keen on gaping at me that I thought I'd give you another chance at it," Harry offered with a faint smile, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Blaise bit her lip. Pansy's talk of mental undressing was doing unsettling things to her mind, and she had to exercise quite a bit of self control not to give Harry a good looking over.

"Go away, Potter," she muttered.

"Sure – if that's what you want." A simple statement that was positively loaded with challenge. Blaise looked up sharply and Harry quirked an eyebrow at her. She studied him for a long moment, undecided whether to laugh or to flee. When she still hadn't decided a few moments later, Harry spoke again.

"Look, Blaise," he said quietly as people began to trickle out of the Great Hall. "I don't –" he paused. "I mean, it's not that I didn't –" another pause. "That is, I –" he looked hopelessly lost and Blaise felt a crooked smile creep onto her face.

"Kneazle got your tongue, Potter?"

"You're not helping," he said, trying to sound cross.

Her grin broadened.

"Would it be half so much fun if I made things easy for you?"

He smiled himself.

"I guess not," he admitted. "Look." He glanced toward the Great Hall, which was now emptying at a more rapid rate. "We need to talk, but I reckon now's probably not the best time."

"Right," Blaise said, taking a deep breath. "Can it wait until after we deal with Red Robes tonight?"

He looked surprised.

"I – I guess," he said, his brow furrowing. "So – um, the Owlry; quarter to seven?"

"Sure; I'll let Draco know." And without another word, she slipped around him and disappeared. She could feel his eyes boring into her back as she retreated toward the staircase leading down to the dungeon and realized with a groan that their first lesson was Potions, a class which she shared with both Potter and Draco.

_Oh, hell_, she thought, stomping down the stairs. Now_ what am I supposed to do_?

**)PvsM(**

His confusing encounter with Blaise had left him in a rather edgy mood, which was hardly helped by the recollection that his first class of the day was Potions. How he had made it into N.E.W.T.-level Potions with Snape breathing down his neck he had no idea. All he knew was that it was just as loathsome now as it had been when he had had Ron in there with him – perhaps more so because the class was much smaller now. Ron had been spared two more years with Snape by making the potion he was supposed to be brewing for his O.W.L. practical exam _implode_ somehow (Harry and Hermione had always suspected that he had done it on purpose).

Harry trudged up the steps to Gryffindor Tower, his mind moving from Snape's greasy hair and hooked nose to Blaise's strange behavior. She had thrown herself at him in the entrance hall that morning, and then kissed him under the stairs. Why was she suddenly playing coy?

Coy, or perhaps she was at last beginning to wonder why she had allied herself, and then practically thrown herself, at Harry.

He sighed distractedly, pushing a hand through his hair. He had finally found a girl who didn't fawn over his scar and who he was absurdly mad about and he had somehow scared her off.

_Typical,_ he thought, banging his way into the common room and glad Ron and Hermione were still at breakfast.

He retrieved his Potions text, parchment, and quill for his dormitory and then made his solitary way down to the dungeons, his mood growing more pensive and irritable with every step. It didn't help in the least that Blaise was going to be in there, within speaking distance, effectively distracting him the entire period.

_And Malfoy_, he thought, his mood suddenly turning thoughtful. The situation of affairs between them had been drastically altered, technically _overnight_. To go from sworn enemies to tolerant companions in less than twelve hours would seem awfully suspicious.

Especially since they had just been given their detention the night before for brawling in the corridors.

Harry grinned suddenly as he descended the dungeon steps. On the other hand, they could spend the rest of the year _really _messing with Snape's head. Bloody shame Malfoy actually liked the git.

Harry entered the frigid, musty classroom, taking a seat near the middle and unloading his cauldron. The rest of the class trickled in, though Malfoy and Blaise were among the last to enter. They came in together, and Harry figured that they had probably been discussing the Red Robes situation. Blaise's eyes met his almost immediately, though she only nodded coolly at him as she passed him toward the "Slytherin side" of the room.

"Harry!"

Harry tore his gaze from Blaise and Malfoy, who was rolling his eyes expressively at them both. Hermione was just setting her cauldron and books down beside him, looking exasperated.

"Where were you?" she demanded.

"What?" Harry stared at her.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" she asked, looking a little hurt.

"Sorry," he said. "I was – uh, preoccupied."

"Anything wrong?" Hermione asked, the hurt giving way to curiosity and a bit of anxiety. She lowered her voice as she began unloading her cauldron of ingredients. "Was it that nightmare?"

"Kind of," Harry said, desperately trying not to lie while at the same time maneuvering the conversation into safer waters. "So – did you understand what Snape meant about adding the goat's eyelashes after the squid tentacle had turned orange?"

Hermione was clearly not thrown off his trail by this abrupt change of subject, but she also knew when not to push it and quietly explained the finer points of the potion to him. However, just as she was getting completely carried away with details, Snape came storming in through his office door. As usual, he looked disgusted when he saw that Harry was sitting quietly in his seat and not doing anything that would allow him to take points from Gryffindor.

"Today," the greasy professor said without preamble, "we will begin brewing one of the most complex potions ever invented. Veritaserum is the strongest Truth Potion ever conceived and is absolute. Ingest more than two drops and you might find yourself spilling your darkest secrets to everyone in sight." He gave Harry a nasty look, and Harry was sure he was wishing that he had carried through with his threat to Harry in fourth year of slipping a large gulp-full of the stuff into his goblet at breakfast. Harry stared innocently back, feeling a horrible desire to smirk. If Snape only knew the secrets he was currently concealing . . .

Harry's eyes flicked to Malfoy, who was grinning gleefully at him. Harry quickly withdrew his eyes, afraid that he might start grinning as well, and fastened them steadily on his desk.

"Do you find this lecture particularly amusing, Mr. Potter?"

Harry felt the muscles working furiously in his jaw as he fought back the smile. Looking up and over Snape's shoulder at the blackboard, he said quietly, "No, sir."

"Then I suggest you stop smirking," Snape snarled at him. "Five points from Gryffindor."

Harry felt the amusement leave him in a rush, like air from a balloon. Whatever he might know about Snape in the future, it did nothing for his opinion of him in the present. He held the professor's gaze until Snape turned back to his lecture (with a most aggravating sneer) and then let his eyes flick instinctively to Blaise, as though for consolation. She was watching him quietly, and offered him a sympathetic little smile behind her hand. She flicked her eyes at Malfoy, who was still looking amused, and rolled them as if to remind him that some things never changed.

Harry felt the moment of mutual understanding settle into his stomach like a soothing drink of butterbeer. Whether she shied from him or not, Blaise was obviously still harboring feelings for him. That was something, anyway. And in all fairness, she had valid reasons for being anxious about their involvement. Quite apart from the censure of their housemates, their son's existence hung in the balance. If he and Blaise didn't – well, _sleep together_ (Harry blushed and tried to bury himself in his Potions notes) – in the near future, Cedric might never exist. And there was the small matter of a looming war with Voldemort. How would that affect their relationship? In the future they had seen it had mattered little that Harry could tell.

It was Blaise's desertion – presumably to protect herself and family from whomever was after her forty-year-old self – that had hurt Harry and their children. Knowing that could still happen, should _he_ still involve himself with her? Knowing that he and his son would be alienated, knowing that his daughter would hurt every day that her mother wasn't with her – would they still take those risks?

_Now that we know these things will happen, they shouldn't be a certainty_, Harry told himself firmly as he rose from his seat to cue for water at the stone sink in the corner of the classroom. They could find other ways to protect Blaise, presumably ways that could involve Harry this time, since he knew her to be in danger.

Or would the danger all pass if Red Robes was caught tonight?

_That's where the answer lies_, Harry thought, stepping up to the sink and turning on the tap. _If we catch Red Robes, we'll know_ _everything_.

**)PvsM(**

Ginny had never thought she would see the day when she _wanted_ to be in class with Draco Malfoy. But she did, rather desperately, wish that she was in seventh year Potions. At the moment, she was in Charms and enjoying it (Flitwick was one of her favorite teachers), but at the same time she felt desperately helpless. She hated waiting but that was what she was being forced to do. Red Robes wouldn't come until that night, so until then, there was little Ginny could do. It infuriated her and rather put her off any productive activity.

Still, her friends and Charms were helping take the edge off and so she tried to enjoy the time between then and lunch as much as she could. She mastered a Confundis Hex and then had to look up the counter-hex when her partner began babbling about her antlers. In giggling over the mishap, she felt some of the tension in her gut ease. Some things were still normal.

**)PvsM(**

"Well?"

Cedric watched Dumbledore closely.

"They should be within the bubble now," Dumbledore said quietly, looking weary.

"Bubble?" Tristan stared back and forth between them. "They're _dead_! You've put them in a dead bubble?"

"Please, Tris, don't ask us to explain," Cedric said tiredly. "They'll be fine where they are."

"But _they're dead_!" Hayden snarled, glaring back and forth between his cousin and Dumbledore.

"In our time," the old man repeated.

"So what happens now?" Cedric asked.

"They will live through the rest of the week which Hayden and Tristan were murdered," Dumbledore said. "Within the bubble they will not have any affect on anyone until it comes time for them to catch Red Robes."

"Which they can't do until the copies of them that are operating in this past are about to time travel," Neville finished.

"So they'll exist in this bubble until their past selves are ambushed by Red Robes in the Astronomy Tower?" Cedric asked carefully.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I hope to be able to communicate with them and tell them how to break out of the bubble and into their time. I should be able to insert my own consciousness into the bubble after they find Tristan and Hayden."

"What _are _you all going on about?" Dorian demanded, looking completely flummoxed.

Cedric rolled his eyes.

"Like I said, don't ask," he said quietly. "If they succeed, we'll never know anyway, so don't worry about it."

And that, he realized, was the worst of it. If they _did_ succeed, not one of them – any of them – would remember a thing about this entire event.

He could only hope they would get so lucky.

**)PvsM(**

That night, the four of them met in the Owlry at a quarter to seven. They were tense and quiet. As per their prearrangements, Blaise and Ginny squeezed under the cloak and Harry and Draco pushed open the doors of the Owlry and made their way down the hall as though they weren't being trailed by two invisible companions. It _had_ been a better idea to allow Blaise to join Ginny under the cloak, because they were a much better fit, both being short.

It turned out that Harry and Draco didn't say much at all as they passed through corridors, most of which weren't too terribly busy in the evening after supper. Ginny could tell that Harry was anticipating the meeting with Red Robes and Draco looked scarcely less tense. His back was rigid and his stride quick. Ginny and Blaise had a bit of trouble keeping up, as both had shorter legs and they didn't want to risk tripping over the cloak.

They were an hour early to entrance hall, but it was just as well – finding hiding places that afforded them good views of the site where the murder was supposed to take place and similarly concealed them from anyone in the entrance hall _or_ anyone descending the stairs proved to be a bit of a challenge. Harry and Draco stood in the center of the hall, quietly discussing possibilities with Ginny and Blaise stationed nearby and occasionally adding their own opinions. Anytime a passerby was spotted, Harry or Draco would say something loud and nasty and a shouting match of ridiculous proportions would ensue. The instant the passerby _passed by_ Harry and Draco would drop their voices and return to business.

Ginny wondered if she was the only one who was suspicious of their sudden ability to nastily insult each one minute and talk almost pleasantly the next.

"_Oh, that's rich coming from the playboy of the wizarding world_ and I really think Gin is the only one small enough to fit behind that suit of armor," Harry said, his voice beginning in a loud bellow and ending in a soft murmur as a group of Hufflepuffs entered the hall, caught sight of the boys, and took flight immediately, their speed increasing as Harry's voice rose.

"You're right," Draco muttered back. "_At least _my_ best friend doesn't sleep in a shed_!" he added for the benefit of a few Ravenclaws who passed them coming out of the Great Hall.

"_Do you _have_ any friends_? And one of us can hang onto the cloak and use that statue of Bathelda the Bemused," Harry said, nodding toward the figure of a wizened old woman that stood beside the staircase that led to the dungeons. "The cover's not bad from here, but anyone coming up from the dungeons would catch you straight away."

"It should be one of us. The girls will be easier to hide somewhere smaller. _Don't you talk about my mum that way, Potter_!"

"_What, like she's got dung under her nose_? Yeah, that's true. Hey, I bet Blaise could fit behind that other suit of armor by the doors of the Great Hall."

And so the bizarre conversation went. As the hour drew later, Ginny felt her stomach begin to knot up and the amusement of the situation ooze away. They might have one chance to get this right . . .

"All right, it's settled," Draco mumbled, nodding in the girls' general direction to get them a bit closer. "Blaise, take that suit of armor on the right side of the stairs. Gin, you're in that little space on the other side between the stairs and the wall – oh, don't fuss, we'll just have to hope the staircase doesn't move. Potter's behind the statue by the staircase to the dungeons with the cloak, and I'm behind that tapestry by the door of the Great Hall."

"Gin, you'll have the best shot," Harry told her, looking casually in her general direction. "Malfoy's in the worst position with no cover so if we need to distract Red Robes, it's up to you and Blaise to get his attention away from Hayden and Tristan. Hopefully, I can get him with something debilitating since he won't be able to see me."

"Right," Blaise muttered. Ginny glanced at her under the cloak. Up close, she looked pale and worried – Ginny could relate. "Anyone coming, Potter? Is it safe to give you the cloak?"

"Yup, go ahead."

Blaise and Ginny shrugged out of the cloak and tossed it to him before darting away to their designated hiding places. Ginny only just fit into the small niche afforded by the angle of the staircase and the wall. Still, no one would see her from above and appropriate shadows were cast that concealed her hiding place from anyone in the entrance hall.

Unfortunately, Ginny has no way of knowing if Blaise was okay because she was on the opposite side of the staircase. Harry was impossible to see as well, hidden as he was by the cloak. And Draco was completely concealed behind the tapestry and was hopefully invisible to everyone.

Ginny sighed heavily, but felt a flash of determination. They _had_ to succeed. Red Robes had to be stopped – stopped from murdering Hayden and Tristy and stopped from continuing to mess with the timeline. Who knew what else he might do, if allowed to continue rampaging?

Ginny realized that her wand hand, wand clenched tightly in it, was shaking slightly. She took a deep, steadying breath, unable to determine whether the tremor had been nerves or anger.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Ginny's wary eyes danced between the center of the more-or-less deserted entrance hall and the massive clock that stood above the doors of the Great Hall. It was ten minutes to eight. Any minute now . . . Draco and Harry were due to _start_ their detention at eight, which meant that they should be discovering the bodies a few minutes from now.

Something about that last thought bothered Ginny. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she felt suddenly as though a piece were missing. Draco and Harry should have been coming down the stairs for their detention, as they had done in the original past . . . and yet here they were, fully prepared to take on Red Robes a second time around . . . but they _should_ have been coming down the stairs.

Something was wrong and Ginny nearly panicked. What _was _it?

Her attention was called away a second later by a slight noise from Blaise's hiding place. Footsteps were coming softly from the stairs to the dungeons. They came nearer and nearer. For a moment, Ginny was sure that it was just some of the Slytherins, but –

There they were.

Ginny stared at her son in awe, almost unwilling to believe that Hayden Malfoy existed out of her own mind; that he wasn't a dream. But truly, there he was. Flesh and blood wrapped in pale beauty that she had learnt to love so dearly, even in their short time together.

"Tris, this _isn't_ a good idea!" he hissed over his shoulder. "The bleeding entrance hall? We're going in the wrong direction. Your bloody mum is bound to be in Slytherin –"

"Fat lot of good _that_ does us, since the password is hardly the same as in our time," Tristy's voice said sharply, and a moment later she topped the staircase. They were standing within easy reach of Harry. Tristy went on. "Look, we've got to find another Slytherin and, er, trail them down or something."

"Oh, _great_ plan!" Hayden snarled quietly, warily eyeing the seemingly deserted entrance hall. "And suppose we run into someone unpleasant? My _dad_, for example? Not even precious little Tristy could explain her way out of that!"

Ginny winced. Oh, that Harry and Draco _had_ arrived in time to catch them before Red Robes. Then none of this might have happened. Or Harry and Draco might have wound up dead beside their children. Ginny shivered and kept her eyes peeled for any other movement besides that of the two children. Harry was watching the staircases and Draco, the front door, but it was up to Ginny and Blaise to cover the remaining area. Surely Red Robes wouldn't pop out of thin air right in front of them . . .

A swish of a cloak was their only warning.

"_Expelliamus!_" Blaise and Ginny said, jumping simultaneously to their feet and firing their charms toward a deserted side corridor.

"Get down!" Blaise barked to Hayden and Tristy.

Ginny was blinded by the light of the colliding spells and squinted, desperate to see the cloaked figure.

Amazingly he had managed to avoid both spells and had taken refuge in the door-jam, just out of Ginny's line of vision. She strained to see him without breaking cover, but it was beyond her.

In the middle of the room, Hayden and Tristy were staring wildly around.

"What the _hell_ –?" Hayden gasped, already pulling himself protectively toward Tristy. She pushed him off and swept the hall with wide green eyes.

"Was that – was that your _mum_?" she whispered, staring at Ginny's corner.

"Was that _your _mum?" Hayden retorted, pointing in Blaise's general direction.

"What were they shooting at?" Tristy murmured, turning her gaze toward the doorway where Red Robes had taken refuge.

"Not us – they couldn't both have missed that bad –" but he was forced to break off as Red Robes dove from his hiding place.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" he shouted. Fortunately, as he was diving from one side of the doorway to the other, his aim was off and the deadly curse only just grazed the top of Hayden's blonde head. Tristy reached out and yanked his head protectively against her shoulder, offering the only shielding she could with her small body.

Ginny knew that they were done for if she and Blaise didn't do something. They needed to distract Red Robes long enough to get Hayden and Tristy to cover.

Ginny jumped to her feet.

"_Lumos holem_! _Ingratus lumos_! _Solaris maximus_!" she shouted, firing every light-bearing charm she could think of in Red Robes' direction. If she could blind him just long enough . . .

Fortunately, Blaise realized what she was doing.

"Hayden! Tristan! Back here!" she called, beckoning them toward her small hiding place. They had little choice since her hiding place was closest and larger than Ginny's.

"_Lumos holem_! _Ingratus lumos_! _Solaris maximus_!" Ginny called again, and Red Robes' doorway was once again illuminated.

"Come on!" Tristy shouted over the noise. She grabbed Hayden's hand and they scrambled to their feet, shielding their eyes and moving toward Blaise's voice.

"_Petrificus totalis_!" cried a voice suddenly. Tristy went rigid and pitched forward, stiff as a board.

"Tristy!" Hayden shouted, skidding to a halt inches from Blaise and whirling to return to Tristy.

"Don't either of you _move_!" And suddenly Red Robes was standing over them, his wand aiming straight at Hayden's heart.

Ginny swore, aware of her mistake. He had used her own trick against her – he had cast a simple light-repelling charm around his eyes and used his enemies' temporary blindness to move closer without them realizing it.

And now he had Tristy and Hayden trapped.

But then, he didn't know Harry was behind him, covered in the Invisibility Cloak.

"You girls," Red Robes was saying, gesturing toward Blaise and Ginny. "Come on out."

They moved slowly out from their hiding places.

"Wands down," the figure ordered.

Ginny heard Blaise's wand hit the ground a moment before she bitterly released her own.

"And tell your boyfriends to come on out as well," Red Robes went on conversationally. "I doubt Malfoy would appreciate it if I liquidated his heir."

"Draco," Ginny called, her throat tight, feeling her desperation and frustration mounting. Harry had been their only hope.

Draco emerged from behind the tapestry and was stalking toward them, looking mutinous.

"And Potter," Red Robes said, not taking his eyes from Hayden.

Harry did not appear.

"I know he's in here!" Red Robes said, in a less tranquil tone. "And if he values his daughter's life, he'll show himself – _immediately_!"

Ginny glanced around the hall, but still there was no sign of Harry. What was he doing? Hopefully something clever.

"One last chance, Potter!" Red Robes called sharply. "Or I take your daughter's life."

"_Expelliamus_!" a voice shouted, directly behind Red Robes. Ginny jumped and Draco gave a yelp as a wand, with Harry Potter attached to it, appeared in a blaze of light from the spell as the cloak was blown off.

Harry was no more than a foot from Red Robes' back and the spell that hit him struck with a blast and burst of light that her deafening and blinding. Ginny squeeze her eyes shut and covered her ears against the barrage.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" shrieked a voice.

Ginny blinked violently, trying desperately to see what had just happened.

Her heart froze.

Hayden lay staring upward in wide-eyed disbelief.

"No!" Ginny whispered.

"That's impossible!" Draco said in a strangled tone, staring at Red Robes. "Potter hit you point-blank!"

"Apparently the powers of the legendary Harry Potter are highly exaggerated," Red Robes sneered.

"_Dimiscendium_!" Draco barked abruptly. Despite her shock, Ginny was still able to gasp at Draco's daring. The Dimiscendus Hex was only a few rungs belong the Killing Curse. It had the power, if fired at close enough range, to completely melt the target's skin. And Draco was standing less than a meter away.

His spell passed directly through Red Robes, its light dissipating as it went.

"I warned you the first time, and I grow impatient – _Avada Kedavra_," Red Robes said silkily, his voice almost lazy.

It was twice as terrible as it might otherwise have been, Ginny thought afterward. Standing there and having no power whatsoever over this horrible creature.

"Fortunately for all of you, I need one of you alive in the future," he said, his voice light again. "So you'll be left alive – for now."

He withdrew his Time-Turner from his robes, turned it a few times, and vanished.

"_Dammit_!" Harry swore. "God – fucking – it shouldn't _be_ this way!"

He hit his knees beside Tristy, his head bowed. Ginny was sure he was close to tears. She felt her own spill over her eyes as anger and helplessness and complete frustration with herself welled up in her chest. She couldn't look at her son.

She changed a look at Draco and saw that his fists were clenched, his eyes narrowed, and his whole body shaking. Ginny felt his pain – it radiated from him in waves and as their eyes met over their son's body, it toppled her. She burst into tears.

It came as something of a shock when she felt Blaise's arms go around her and cling tightly to her. Still, it was comforting, even though Blaise was crying almost as hard as she was. Ginny could feel the shoulder of her robes being soaked through, but she didn't care.

She didn't know how long she stood clinging to Blaise – to her friend, really, for that was what they had reluctantly become through this whole ordeal. All she knew was that eventually her tears dried, her breathing slowed, and she was left hiccupping into Blaise's shoulder.

"We should – we should get the bodies to Dumbledore," came Harry's hoarse voice from the floor. Ginny pulled back from Blaise and looked down at him. He sat beside Tristy's frozen body.

"Again," Draco snarled, though his voice sounded ruff as well.

"This isn't right," Ginny whispered her thought from earlier, suddenly remembering her reverie.

No one appeared to hear her.

"_Mobilius Corpus_," Draco murmured, and suddenly Hayden was floating beside him. Behind him, Harry had Tristy in the air, although he wouldn't look at her.

The walk to Dumbledore's office was silent with despair. Ginny kept close to Blaise, feeling more empathy for her than for either of the boys. She knew why – it was simply because they were mothers. Mothers who had known their children and watched them die. Ginny bit her lip as her eyes welled up a second time and forced her tears down with difficulty. What was the point in sobbing again? It wouldn't bring her son back.

They reached Dumbledore's door.

"Sugar Melon."

Ginny stared at Harry in surprise.

"How'd you know that?" she asked.

"Remembered it from last time," he and Draco said together dully.

Ginny felt a sharp pang in her chest. They had done this once already. And now, to have to do it again . . .

Ginny moved forward and looped her arm through the arm Draco wasn't using to keep Hayden up. He made no protect, which did not bode well for his mood. On the contrary, he gripped her possessively as they climbed the winding staircase to Dumbledore's office.

"I can't believe Snape moved the office," Blaise murmured. Ginny glanced at her around Draco's arm (taking care _not_ to look at Tristy, who was floating in front of her parents) and saw that she had taken Harry's unoccupied hand firmly in hers.

"I thought the Ourobus was rather fitting, myself," Draco said quietly, his lips lifting upward slightly into a crooked smile. Ginny noticed that his eyes were red. She squeezed his arm and leaned her head against it, trying not to look at Hayden as he floated along in from of them.

Dumbledore's office door was already opened and he appeared to be waiting for them. Furthermore, he did not look surprised to see the bodies.

"Sir – we can explain," Harry began. He sounded exhausted.

"There is no need, Harry," the headmaster said quietly, his eyes sparkling with sympathy. "Do come in."

The four teens shared surprised looks – _that_ had not been the reaction they had expected.

"Sir?" Draco said, following him into the room. He stopped dead when he saw the army cots sitting neatly out of the way behind four chairs positioned in front of the desk.

"Please, put them there," Dumbledore said briskly, motioning to the cots and moving to seat himself behind his desk. He watched quietly as Draco and Harry gently deposited Hayden and Tristy on the cots.

"Sir, what's going on?" Ginny asked, taking one of the four chairs in front of the headmaster's massive desk. The others joined her.

"I'm afraid I can't fully explain it to you at this time," Dumbledore said. "I imagine you've realized that I was anticipating your arrival this evening."

"You _knew_?" Harry snapped, leaning forward. "You _knew_ they were going to – to –" he broke off, swallowing hard. Blaise gripped his hand, her lip trembling mutinously.

"Yes," Dumbledore told him simply. "I did. But I must explain myself so that you understand."

"What's to understand?" Draco said darkly from Ginny's side. "You let them die."

"Yes, I did." To Ginny, he looked very old. "I would like to explain why."

They waited, too angry, shocked, or suspicious to speak.

"Since you have returned, has anything seemed . . . at all out of place?" Dumbledore began.

"Since we returned?" Draco repeated. "So you _did _know about our – er, trip?" He was clearly remember their conversation that morning.

"I do, but the how of it is for another discussion," Dumbledore said. "My original question stands."

_Out of place_ . . . Ginny stared blankly at him, her mind once again jolted back to her earlier reveries. Something _was _wrong – but she still couldn't put her finger on what it was.

Dumbledore saw her expression and as usual seemed to read her mind.

"Harry," he said, suddenly turning to the dark-haired boy. "Your adventure with Miss Granger in third year – what comparisons can you draw with your own recent experience?"

"It's different," Harry said slowly. "When Mione and I went back –"

"You time-traveled with Granger?" Blaise demanded, staring incredulously at him.

"Never mind, that's not important," Harry said briskly. "When she and I went back, we had to make sure that we weren't seen by anyone, including ourselves . . ."

Ginny started.

"That's it!" she said triumphantly. "I _knew_ something was wrong! We've come back to a time prior to the time that we went forward. We returned to a time when there was already a copy of each of us that had already completed certain actions. Tonight . . ." she thought back. "Tonight – I would have been with Mione doing Potions."

"And Malfoy and I would have been going to detention," Harry said slowly, his eyes slowly widening in understanding.

"And I would have been in the dungeons – so what?" Blaise asked.

"When Mione was time traveling to get to her lessons in third year – please, don't ask about it now – she had to be sure that no one else knew that there were two Hermiones running around," Harry explained. "And she had to make sure that she returned to the exact spot she had originally left from so that she wouldn't ever be missed."

"I see," Draco said slowly. "So the question is, where are the copies of us that should be running around?"

"Exactly!" Harry said. "There should have been two of me in my bed this morning – two of me in Potions."

"So what's wrong, Professor?" Ginny asked eagerly. "Why isn't this happening now?"

"Because it would not have been wise to simply return you to your time of departure," Dumbledore said quietly. "When someone who travels into the future is killed in the future, they snap back to their original time of departure in their correct time. This is because it is the future for them; it has not yet occurred. The future, to them is only a _possibility_, because a person from the past can still do things in that past to affect and change the future. That is why you would have returned to your original point of departure. If you had done that . . ."

"We would probably have been vaporized by Red Robes," Harry said quietly.

"Exactly," Dumbledore said. "What I've done is – given you some time to prepare. We are now trapped in what you might call a bubble in time. You are within a magical sphere that is removed from time – that is, it reflects the events that transpired in the week leading up to your departure, but your actions have no effect on what was actually happening in that time. This sphere was created specifically for you four so that you could prepare to face our robed nemesis and win."

"Why five days early?" Blaise asked. She looked almost as confused as Ginny felt.

"To give you time to readjust to world," Dumbledore said. "To allow you to catch your bearings, if you will, so that you can effectively face Red Robes and not tie up the timeline any more than it is already knotted."

"So we _are_ trying to capture him – not kill him?" Harry asked. His face had cleared a bit and he looked alive and determined.

"You are," Dumbledore said. "We must know what he's after, who he is, and _when_ he is from."

"So what happens on Friday?" Harry asked.

"It is imperative that this be done correctly," Dumbledore said, looking very grave. "I will align this bubble with the correct temporal coordinates. In order for you to be able to see what is going on in real time, you must be in the Astronomy Tower in the bubble. Everything will transpire just as it did in real time. You _must_ wait until exactly the moment when you departed your time, but you must also apprehend Red Robes before he can time travel. There is a simple spell to dissolve the bubble and bring you back into the timeline. It is, _Restoratus Temporal_. Only one of you needs to say the incantation, wand held high, and the bubble will burst."

"_Restoratus Temporal - Restoratus Temporal_," they all murmured, determined to remember.

"And how will we know when we're back in real time?" Harry asked.

"Theoretically, there will be a ripple or shimmer of some kind," Dumbledore said. "Something to let you know that the change has occurred."

Harry nodded. For a long moment nobody spoke.

"Well," the headmaster said at length. "I expect you're all exhausted. Why don't you go off to bed? You have four days to rest and recuperate from your adventure." He seemed shockingly unconcerned that they had blatantly disobeyed and broken a dozen school rules, never mind laws, but Ginny supposed that was a secondary consideration when compared to the threat of Red Robes.

"Sir, I did have one other question," Harry said as they all rose.

"What is it?" Dumbledore asked, although his expression suggested that he knew what it would be.

"Did they really have to die, sir?" Harry whispered, staring at Hayden and Tristy.

"And why couldn't we curse Red Robes? Why did our hexes go right through him?" Draco added.

"Two reasons," Dumbledore said to the blonde. "Firstly, because I wanted you all to have a reason to come to my office for this meeting and secondly," he sighed, "because I wanted you to have time to cope with it so that your reentry into the timeline would be less painful. And yes, Harry, for reasons that will hopefully be explained to you in real-time, it was necessary that they die."

Another long pause.

"Reckon we should hit the sack, then," Ginny ventured at last.

Draco's lip twitched.

"Yours or mine, Gin?"

She slapped his arm – hard.

"Ow!" he whined, trailing her out of the room.

"Goodnight, professor," Harry called over his shoulder. Ginny could hear the vague amusement in his voice.

"Goodnight, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Ginny; Draco; Blaise."

"Night, sir."

None of them looked at the bodies as they went.

They lapsed into silence again as they descended the spiral staircase.

They separated in silence once the griffin statue had sealed behind them. Blaise and Harry shared a brief, intense kiss that made Ginny blush and look away. She and Draco avoided each other's eyes. She didn't know why they played this game anymore. Their fate was more or less set and anyway, there was no denying that she was in deep for him.

"_. . . I can't speak for Harry or Blaise, but I know something's different between you and I,"_ she had said to him earlier that day.

Perhaps it was her fear that he didn't return the feelings that made her freeze at the very thought of expressing her own. His discomfort at the present time was evident, and he didn't even have a snarky comment for Blaise about corrupting innocent schoolboys.

Ginny blinked rapidly in frustration as Harry led the way toward the staircase that led back to Gryffindor Tower. She knew what she wanted from Draco – she wanted to be kissed with the same enthusiasm that Blaise had been.

"You all right?" Harry asked as they mounted the stairs.

Ginny didn't reply, didn't look at him, but he understood and held her hand all the way back to Gryffindor.

**)PvsM(**

TBC


	15. War's End :Edge of Completion

**A/N: **I know – another looooong wait and I apologize. Adjusting to university life and all that. Now that I have MY OWN COMP I hope to do MORE WRITING MORE OFTEN!! So far, it's worked a treat. Anyway, thanks to my FAP buddies (you know who you are) for one of the funniest quotes in this chapter. You will probably recognize it. F&Iers, you rock my world! Also to my loffly beta, who has not had much to do lately (my fault) or many teasers to read (sorry!). You're amazing and thank you, XX! Also, BIG thanks to all my reviewers. You guys keep me typing up a storm. Your encouragement, hints, and suggestions have ALL BEEN READ and addressed. So thanks to you! You rock a writer's world – know that!

**P.S.** Next chapter SHOULD be the last. THIS ONE IS NOT!!! I know, I shouldn't say things before I'm sure. Oh, well. More for you. Next chapter is going to be HUGE AND RESOLVING! All questions answered there!

It occurs to me that I have seriously overused the CAPSLOCK key in this author's note (to F&Iers: Sorry, Harry! ). I apologize.

**Disclaimer:** We solemnly swear we are up to no good…(of course it's not ours!)

**)PvsM(**

Draco didn't sleep at all that night.

He lay awake, staring at the canopy above his four-poster, his eyes ceaselessly trailing the seams around the edges. Every time he closed his eyes the image of his son, accompanied by a play-by-play of his – well, his passing, repeated itself over and over against his closed eyelids. He didn't want to see it and most _definitely_ didn't want to feel the pain. So he kept his eyes open, hoping that he would eventually drift off sleep without realizing it.

But then, of course, there was also the risk of nightmares.

Draco groaned and rolled over, staring dismally out of the window, which was enchanted to show the night sky, despite the fact that the dormitory was underground. It wasn't fair! It wasn't as if what he had seen was real. Dumbledore had said that they were within a bubble, removed from time. Nothing they did made any difference.

_He also said that in the actual timeline Hayden's really – really – _

Draco bit his lip, glaring ferociously at the full moon and blinking hard. Ridiculous! He hadn't cried since he was a small child. He wasn't about to start now. He forced himself to remember how much he hated Harry Potter. If it weren't for Potter, Draco wouldn't have given a dragon's arse about his son. He would probably be happily unaware of Red Robes. He would be two weeks into the future, happily employed in mad studying for N.E.W.T.s and excited plans for the week of Easter hols. All of Potter's do-gooding had led him into this.

He would have been mad to deny that the experience had changed him.

That was, perhaps, the most infuriating part of it. He supposed that he was still the same nasty bastard who had persistently followed Potter around that week, hoping to get him expelled. It wasn't _he_ that he had changed, but how he _felt_. Everything felt different now. He felt about ten years older. He had met his son and been given a cursed peek into his own future. He had seen a time when he was truly loved, truly _happy – _he took a moment to scoff at the idea. He had seen himself happier than any of them – happier, probably, than Weasley and Granger would ever be – and certainly far happier than Potter.

He paused as the Gryffindor's name again drifted through his consciousness. Potter . . . how different did that name sound now. Draco couldn't work it out. Neither he nor Potter had changed at all in essentials – Potter was still a do-gooder, Draco was still clever – but their whole chemistry had been dramatically altered. When he had first seen Potter at the top of the steps earlier that morning, there had been no rush of hatred or any desperate urges involving Unforgivable Curses. Instead, there had been familiarity, as though he knew Potter better than the git knew himself.

Draco snorted. He had sworn to his older self that he and Potter could never possibly reach a truce. Nothing could change their animosity. He hadn't wanted anything to. And now, here he was, admitting (to himself at least) that seven years worth of loathing had been chipped away at and reduced to . . . acceptance.

It was degrading. He would never hear the end of it.

He rolled over, glaring at the headboard of his four-poster. Time to think of something else.

The bubble – everything that happened within it was like a dream. It wasn't really happening, or at least would never appear in any part of history. Did that mean that when he and the others were released, they would forget the events of the last sixteen hours? Or did it simply mean that they would be the only ones aware that they had, in some sense, relived the same week twice?

_And when we continue to move forward in time_, his brain said, seemingly unable to shut itself off, _will we make changes based on what we've learned about the future? Or will we begin to forget everything we saw, since that exact future probably can't happen otherwise?_

Oh, hell. Now he was wide awake _and_ had a headache.

He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Well, if this bubble thing really didn't exist in any sort of timeline, then conceivably it didn't matter what any of them did, so long as they destroyed the bubble and got to Red Robes. They had, in real-time, already lived this week. _Those_ events were the ones everyone else would remember.

_So it won't matter if I'm caught by Filch sneaking down to the kitchens_, he thought was a crooked smile. Well, he couldn't sleep and he was desperately in need of a distraction. Tormenting house-elves seemed as good a way as any to take his mind off things.

He slid out of bed and winced slightly as the icy floor stung his bare feet. He didn't feel like poking around for shoes or slippers, so he danced his way across the floor until his skin adjusted to the chill. Pulling a jumper that hung on a hook by the door over his head, he left the dormitory and stole down the steps to the common room. It was never deserted, but no one would stop him leaving.

He smirked. They wouldn't dare.

Sure enough, several people were still sitting up, either playing cards, finishing homework, or relaxing by the dwindling fire.

Draco was not surprised to see Blaise's dark head resting against a short-backed pouf beside the dying embers. He briefly considered asking her to accompany him, but thought better of it. Their moody dispositions would probably impose on each other and anyway, Draco was trying to forget the events of the evening, not be reminded of them every time he saw his housemate. He moved quietly passed the chair and toward the dungeon door.

"Sneaking out to find a weasel?"

Bloody hell. He turned back and saw that she hadn't even opened her eyes.

"Hardly – I'm hungry," he said shortly. He noticed to his supreme aggravation that both Pansy Parkinson and Aislynn Giles had dropped their playing cards in astonishment at Blaise's flippant question.

"For what, exactly?" Blaise jibed, eyes still closed.

"Caviar," he told her. "Don't go shunting your sexual frustration onto the rest of us, Blaise."

"I'm not the one who's frustrated, am I?" she said, though he noticed that her voice was impish, rather than malicious. Interesting. "Only be careful, Draco. She looks more innocent even than Potter. You _might_ be dealing with a virgin."

Pansy and Aislynn were hanging on every word. Not because this sort of talk was unusual in the Slytherin common room, but because it involved Draco's "love life", something which far too many of his female housemates seemed to be interested in these days.

"Technically no one's a virgin – life screws us all," he intoned lightly. "Anyway, don't look at me. You practically drowned Gryffindor's golden boy in saliva, didn't you?"

Pansy and Aislynn gasped. Blaise snorted.

"That's disgusting," she pointed out, finally opening her eyes and grinning up at him.

"That's what I've said several times now and you've ignored me completely," he returned. "Later, vixen."

"Night, Draco," she called after him as he pushed open the common room door. "Oh, and it wasn't her virginity I was warning you of. It was her chastity belt of brothers."

The last words met Draco's ears as the common room door slid shut and he couldn't help smirking at the opposite wall.

He had always been sure that he would like having Blaise as a friend. He would have to thank Potter for finally taking the girl off his hands.

He would have – _to thank­_ – no, no, _no_. They might not actively dislike each other anymore – and even that was a stretch – but there would be no thanking or apologizing of any kind. For the next twenty years, anyway.

**)PvsM(**

Blaise watched Draco leave with a small smile on her face. He was such a prat. Her grin widened. Weasley was welcome to him.

"Blaise, what the hell was that all about?" Pansy said. She and Aislynn threw themselves into the same armchair and stared expectantly at her.

"It's none of your business," Blaise said coolly, closing her eyes.

"Don't be thick!" Aislynn said. "Malfoy just blew you off for a Weasley."

"Ask me if I care," Blaise retorted, eyes still closed.

"But you were mad about him last night! And every night before that since, like, first year!" Pansy said, staring beadily at her. "What gives?"

"I said, it's none of your business," Blaise said, her patience thinning a bit.

"And I say, something's up," Pansy returned. "Next we'll hear that you're getting your thrills from Harry sodding Potter!"

Blaise froze. She tried to narrow her eyes in disgust, but it was too late. Aislynn's eyes widened.

"Say it isn't so, Blaise," she said, leaning forward and looking gleefully horrified. "Draco's gone after the little redhead and you're – "

"I knew it," Pansy said, her lip curling. "I knew it, Blaise. I saw you goggling at him during breakfast."

Blaise stared back and forth between their faces, both covered in accusing looks. Never mind that they weren't real and that in a week they would cease to exist. It had suddenly occurred to Blaise that, although they weren't real, there were replicas of Pansy and Aislynn in real life. As Draco had once said, Slytherins didn't have friends. They had close enemies. Well, Pansy and Aislynn were _her_ close enemies and when real life came rolling back in, she was going to face this exact scenario again. And the reactions of her closest housemates were going to exactly the same . . .

"I'm going for a walk," she said abruptly, getting to her feet and walking as fast as grace would allow to the common room door.

"Blaise!" Aislynn called after her. Blaise ignored her pulled open the door. As she left, she heard Aislynn say, "My god, Pans, I think you were _right_," and Pansy's cold response of, "Of course I'm bloody right, you cow!"

Blaise was two corridors away before she slowed down and realized she hadn't a clue where she was going. She wasn't terribly concerned about being caught. She had superb night vision and excellent hearing. She would know if anyone was coming.

She came to a halt at the bottom of the steps leading up from the dungeons and stared straight ahead, feeling lost. She hadn't been able to sleep because she couldn't stop thinking about her daughter and now here she was at the foot of the steps that led directly into the entrance hall and more memories. She took a deep, shuddering breath as wild, disconnected images flitted through her mind. Tristan's eyes bright with tears – Tristan laughing with Harry – Tristan smiling that unguarded smile she only ever used with her brother . . .

Blaise took another shuddering breath and felt it catch in her throat. At no time during their journey had she realized just how deeply she had come to care for her daughter. And now . . .

Blaise dashed angrily at her eyes, suddenly fearful of the barrage of emotions building up inside her. She had never felt this way before about anyone. But then, she had never had a daughter before, either. She shivered and, from actual weakness, sank down onto the bottom step of the stairs and leaned back against the icy stone wall. She shivered again. She was only wearing a tee shirt and shorts and a pair of lined suede boots, but she hardly cared. Closing her eyes, she allowed the tears to trickle down her cheeks as she gave in to the wash of images of Tristan.

"Blaise?"

She nearly jumped out her skin. Eyes snapping open, she got quickly to her feet, yanking her wand out of her pocket and staring wildly around.

"Whoa, there!"

Harry's head suddenly appeared in thin air a few steps above her, his eyes behind his glasses wide.

"Dammit, Potter!" Blaise snarled, lowering her wand and quickly averting her face so he wouldn't see the tears glittering on her cheeks.

"Sorry!" he said hastily. Blaise saw him remove the Invisibility Cloak completely. "I – I was just –"

Blaise quickly scrubbed at her cheeks before glancing back at him. He was squinting at her, his night vision not equal to hers, and he looked nervous.

"What're you doing down here, Potter?" she murmured, staring up at him.

"Well –" he said slowly, scratching the back of his neck. He glanced at her, looked down, and then sighed. "Hell, I was going to wait until someone came out of your common room, sneak in, convince Malfoy to convince Parkinson to get you from the girls' dorms, and talk to you."

"Er – oh," Blaise said intelligently. A moment later, "That seems unnecessarily complicated."

"I prefer elaborate," he said sheepishly, and his expression, so earnest yet so uncomfortable, suddenly made her chest ache.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, reaching out to touch his cheek. He caught her hand and brought it gently to his lips, kissed her palm. She felt her stomach twinge. It was amazing how good he made her feel. He was watching her now, her hand still at his lips. She gave him a crooked smile. "I'm glad you're here," she admitted at length.

His irresistible smile slid slowly into place and he used his grip on her hand to tug her gently into his arms. He bent his head to rest his forehead against hers.

"I came because it still hurts," he told her in a rush. She was about to ask him what he meant, but she knew.

"I know – I can't stop thinking about it," she confessed, feeling both relieved and disgusted that she had spoken the words aloud. She felt Harry draw a deep breath, his chest rising quickly against hers, before his lips brush her forehead, her chin, her nose, her cheeks. On her right cheek they lingered.

"You've been crying," he said simply, his arms tightening around her.

"I haven't," she retorted, snuggling closer. "Someone used a fire extinguishing charm on me."

"Uh-huh," Harry said, sounding faintly amused. His voice deepened, sobered. "I cried, too, you know."

"Did you?" she said softly, stroking his back with her forefinger.

"I love them, Blaise," he said quietly, his voice rather thick. "Cedric and Tristan. God, I love them so – much." He buried his face in her hair.

Blaise held him, feeling shocked and helpless and utterly touched that he was trusting her with his weakness. No one had ever done that before. And here he was, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, tearing up over _their_ children in her arms. It was the proudest, most moving moment in Blaise's short life. She continued to rub his back, to stroke his thick hair, to murmur nothings in his ear as he shook quietly against her. He wasn't sobbing, but she could feel his tears against the base of her neck and could feel him trembling as he sucked in air.

"Why?" he whispered shakily against her shoulder. "Why did it have to happen? After everything we did, all the rules we broke to save them . . ."

"I don't know," Blaise said quietly. "I just don't."

Suddenly, it was she who was tearing up again as the images of her children danced across her mind. She felt Harry's trembling melt into her own as she finally let go and cried.

She didn't know how long they stood there in the hall, arms wrapped tightly about each other and eyes streaming silent pain that met in between them, coalesced, and vanished into release. She wasn't sure who stopped crying first. She wasn't sure who was the first to pull back or who initiated the intense, almost painful kiss. But suddenly, her back was against the wall and she was kissing Harry with all the intensity of her anger, her pain, and her need for him. His kiss was equally urgent, his hands slipping her on shirt and brushing the goose bumps on her back. Blaise gasped against his mouth and tried to pull him closer. She managed to hoist herself up and wrap her legs round his waist.

"Blaise," he moaned against her mouth before plunging back in again, his tongue dancing against her lips. Her mouth opened wide and warmth poured in, sweet and wet and absolutely Harry. Blaise's hands, formerly laced through his hair, moved to his face, cupping it and pulling him as close as he could come. She couldn't remember when she pushed his glasses roughly off his face and certainly had no idea where they disappeared to moments later. Her mind and body were wrapped firmly around Harry – she could feel his heart slamming against his ribs, his labored breath as his chest heaved against hers, his muscles tensing and relaxing under her legs.

Suddenly he turned so that Blaise was to longer against the wall and fell back against it himself, still holding and kissing her as they slid together to the cold stone floor. Blaise straddled his lap and pushed herself against him, releasing his mouth and trailing her lips down his chin and jaw and down his throat. His breath caught as her lips and tongue curled around his Adam's apple, massaging it gently and occasionally nipping it with her teeth.

"Blaise," he choked out again, his hands slipping further up her spine and causing her to shiver.

"Hush," she breathed against his neck, her own hands finding the seam of his jumper and pushing it gently upward, feeling the muscles in his stomach twitch and contract as her hands made their way up to his chest. It wasn't enough, her brain said smartly. _More_. Her hands found the edge of the loose garment and pulled it hastily over his head, barely allowing her lips to leave his exposed throat.

_Oh, my god_, a tiny voice in the very back of her mind said. _What _am_ I doing_?

The voice was abruptly drowned out as Harry dipped his head and managed to capture her mouth with his. His teeth toyed with a corner of her lip before he slid his tongue deep inside her mouth again.

"Harry." It was, after all, her turn to be moaning.

"Say it again," he commanded, his lips a hairbreadth from hers and his tongue tickling her lips as he spoke.

"No," she teased, her mouth trailing a path to her ear.

"Please," he begged hoarsely, his hands dropping from her back to caress her thighs. "_Please_, Blaise."

"_Harry_," she breathed gently into his ear, her eyelids fluttering as his hands danced a path along her legs. She took his earlobe in her teeth and tugged gently. He gasped and she did it again.

"We – shouldn't – be – doing – mmmm –" Harry murmured, arching into her touch.

"I know," she whispered, returning her mouth to his and trying to slow down a bit. His words had jogged her a bit and the world seemed to be coming back into existence around her. She recollected that they were sitting at the foot of the steps to the entrance hall, lip-locked and moaning each other's names. It probably wouldn't go over too well if Snape or Filch came down, and while Blaise had excellent hearing, she very much doubted that she would be paying enough attention to notice anything if anyone did come down. Furthermore, she had no desire to fulfill her destiny and be impregnated by Harry Potter on the icy dungeon floor. Not only was she not supposed to become pregnant with Cedric for another six months, but she had really had something a lot more romantic in mind.

As these thoughts drove home, her mouth against his slowed and her hands stilled. She felt his hands slide to a halt against her thighs and his lips instantly become gentler. They needed to slow down.

Reluctantly, Blaise pulled her lips from his and leaned forward to rest her cheek against his. They were silent for a long moment, except for their heavy breathing, listening to the stillness of the castle.

"I – I should probably head back up to Gryffindor," Harry said at length, leaning his head back against the wall to look at her. His eyes weren't quite focused without his glasses, but they were so bright and intensely green that for a long moment, Blaise was lost in them. They were softened, almost dazed, but the sharpening mind behind them focused them a bit. The instant that Harry felt the pain return, Blaise could see it in those expressive eyes. They darkened a bit and he bit his lip.

She took his face in her hands and brushed her lips against his, hating that she wasn't sure how to make the pain go away and hating that she wasn't sure if she _should_. After all, it was right that they were hurting over this – over their child.

His hands slowly lifted to rest over hers. He didn't deepen the kiss, just held her mouth to his. It was still and it was peaceful and Blaise felt the safety of his touch settle into her mind. Vaguely, she wondered how, even being fairly sure that she had left her family in the future to protect them, she had managed to pull herself away from this – away from the complete security Harry gave her.

Their lips parted at last and Harry looked up at her again.

"I can't stand the thought of you leaving," he said bluntly, his almost-innocent voice petulant with both worry and honesty.

"I'm not going anywhere," she insisted.

"I know," he mumbled, burying his face in her hair once more.

Another long moment passed.

"You're shivering," Harry said, pulling back from her just a little a resting his hands on her arms. Blaise hadn't noticed the chill, but now that he mentioned it, the corridor was rather cold. Her arms were covered in gooseflesh.

"Here," Harry said quickly, reaching fumblingly for his discarded jumper and tugging it gently over her head.

"What about you?" she demanded. "You've got no shirt now."

"Complaining?" he said with an impish smile.

"Not really," she said, the confounded blush creep into her cheeks again. She felt extremely grateful for the darkness. She trailed her fingers across his chest and stomach.

"Blaise –" he said roughly, quickly reaching out and pulling her hands down.

"Sorry," she said ruefully, lacing her fingers through his and settling their hands atop her legs.

" 's okay," he said simply. "It's just that I don't fancy Snape coming down and finding you flat on your back."

Blaise grinned broadly.

"As if!" she said stoutly. "Who says _you'd_ get to be on top?"

"Stop!" he pleaded, closing his eyes tightly. "Blaise – you're –"

"I know," she said almost gleefully. "Perhaps you're not such a naïve little Gryffindor after all, Potter."

He pinched her sides and she squealed, sliding backwards out of his lap.

"Thanks," he said cheekily, working his way somewhat unsteadily to his feet. He offered her a hand up, which she gratefully accepted and used to pull him to her one last time.

"Sure you won't be cold?"

"I've got the cloak, remember," he said. "Any idea where my glasses got to?"

"I think I threw them in that general direction." She pointed, knowing full well he couldn't really see her. She grinned and pulled her wand from her pocket. "_Accio glasses_!"

They landed neatly in her outstretched hand. After checking for scratched or broken lenses, she settled them gently back onto his nose.

"You sexy nerd, you," she mock-simpered, kissing the bridge of his nose.

"What can I say? It's a talent," he drawled in a remarkable impersonation of Draco.

They held each other for a bit longer.

"I really should go," Harry said at last, with a sigh. Slowly, with a flattering show of reluctance, he pulled away from her and picked up the Invisibility Cloak.

"The jumper . . . ?" Blaise said.

"Keep it," he said. "I've got loads of them, trust me. Ron's mum makes one for me every Christmas."

"Nice of her," she murmured. She wasn't about to admit that the thing had, in the space of five minutes, become her favorite piece of clothing. Shame she probably wouldn't be able to remove it from the bubble when they had to leave.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "See you tomorrow?"

His voice was distinctly hopeful.

"I think I can pencil you into my busy schedule," she said with a smirk as he swung the cloak around his shoulders and all but his head vanished. She reached out to smooth his unruly hair.

"Nice of you," was all he said. As her fingers trailed near his mouth, he kissed them gently, before tugging the hood of the cloak over his head and vanishing back up the steps the way he had come.

Blaise stood staring up the steps long after he had gone.

**)PvsM(**

Ginny sat curled in a chair in the far corner of the kitchens, nursing a mug of hot chocolate and feeling horrid. The tears had come and gone several times, but the worry, hurt, and anger remained, sharp and oddly reassuring in her chest. Rather than suppress the tangle of emotions, she had escaped to the kitchens to eat and drink chocolate and reminisce about the insanity that had been the last two weeks.

She thought about Hayden. She thought with a smile about his seemingly endless fights with Tristy. She thought was a sigh about his appearance – nearly a spitting image of Draco. She thought with bitterness of the unnecessary sacrifice of his life. She thought with a sudden sob of pure, motherly longing about his smile.

The smile was what hurt the most, she decided distantly, gulping down the hot chocolate and ignoring the tears dribbling off the end of her chin. It was such a slow thing – his one insecurity, just like his father's. Smirks and sneers, even tiny grins came and went with regularity, but the genuine smile – _that_ was a rarity indeed. She remembered seeing it during their first game of Quidditch at Red's Park. She remembered catching a glimpse of it as it was directed with artless amusement at Tristy's retreating back.

Her breath caught as she remembered seeing him hug his mother – Ginevra _Malfoy – _goodnight several days before their departure. Ginny remembered with a pang his expression as he gazed with ingenuous fondness at Mrs. Malfoy's smiling face and shamelessly told her that he loved her.

Ginny. Mrs. Malfoy. Two phrases that seemed to contrast, rather than connect the girl she was and the woman she would be. How _had_ it happened? Sure, she no longer saw Draco simply as a two-faced, bullying little Slytherin, but she also knew that he wasn't exactly husband or father material. In fact, if the timeline played out according to sketch, he was going to be rather a flop at being both husband and father until . . . until . . .

Ginny set her mug quickly down as a sob choked her. It wasn't bad enough that in the timeline they had already lost a daughter – Ginny realized that she hadn't thought of Clarissa since they had left Red's Park, what with the more pressing weight of trolls and dragons on her shoulders. But now, with Hayden's death fresh in her mind, the passing of her little daughter rose quickly in Ginny's mind.

"_ . . . you got better after a few months. The baby, Clarissa, died on her first birthday._"

Cedric's words, still surprisingly sharp in her memory. She buried her face in her arms.

"Weasley?"

Ginny wasn't sure she had actually heard her name until it was repeated a second later.

"Weasley?" the voice said again. "What the hell is going on?"

Ginny lifted her head and stared bleakly at Draco, who was almost glaring at her from the entrance to the kitchens and was completely ignoring the sea of house-elves bobbing eagerly around his middle, clambering to get him something to eat.

"Draco," she said faintly, swiping a few of the tears from her eyes. "What're you doing here?"

"Hungry," he muttered, still glaring at her. "What're you crying for?"

"What am I _crying_ for?" she said incredulously, failing to stifle a hiccup. "How can you ask that?"

A fresh wave of despair crept over her and she bit her lip furiously. She turned away, staring at the opposite wall.

"He's gone," Draco said flatly. "Crying about it isn't going to bring him back."

Ginny turned and actually gaped at him. She couldn't believe him – she really couldn't.

"How can you be such a horrible, insensitive git, Malfoy?" she snapped. She was suddenly on her feet and not sure how she got there. "Just because it's not going to bring him back doesn't mean I don't have a good reason for crying!"

He actually flinched. Ginny stared harder at his vacant expression, noticing as she did that it wasn't so vacant after all. His lips were pressed into a thin, determined line and his eyes were clouds of grey, as though a thousand emotions were churning within them. His posture was rigid and his hands fisted at his sides. He was obviously upset and doing a poor job of concealing it.

"You've got the emotional maturity of a five-year-old," was all she could think to say, reseating herself and turning away.

"If you want someone to blubber to, I'm sure Potter would be only too happy cuddle with you," he retorted. "Someone fetch me an éclair!"

Ginny could hear a mad stampede as the house-elves rushed to do his bidding.

"Don't you start in on Harry because he actually has a heart!" she bit out, picking up the mug of chocolate and taking a long pull.

"Oh, I'm so sorry I'm not as intuitive as the great, magnificent –"

"Shut _up_!" Ginny snarled, almost upending her chair as she whirled to face him again. The rush of tears was momentarily stilled by her anger at Draco. Why was he being such a wretched bastard all of a sudden? "For Merlin's sake, Malfoy! I'm just sitting here minding my own business –"

"Making it everyone else's business by shrieking like a banshee!" he snapped back, eyes narrowing.

"Shrieking like – you horrid wanker, my _son just died_!" she shouted, not caring who heard her and bursting into tears. "I came down here to have some peace and quiet so that I could mourn for him – and for _us_ – in peace! And you come down and start insulting me and acting like it doesn't matter –" she broke off, trying to hitch in breath and blot away the storm of tears. "Well, I've got news for you, Draco Malfoy! It _does_ matter. I _know_ you care – I saw you looking at him tonight. And you know what, it's going to hurt like this when it happens again, so you might as well admit that you're hurting as much as the rest of us –"

"Happens again?" he repeated, cutting off her tirade and not looking entirely in control anymore. "What're you talking about?"

"What do you mean, what am I talking about?" Ginny cried, unable to bear the frustration. "Oh, sure, she doesn't die until later on – maybe you're hoping that by then you'll have discovered that you have a heart, just like the rest of us –"

"_She_?" Draco cut her off again. His voice was no longer angry, but guarded. "Ginny – _who_ dies?"

Ginny stared at him, dumbstruck and momentarily at a loss. Could he not have known? In the whole two weeks that they had lived in that part of the timeline, could he not have heard about Clarissa?

"No one told you," she breathed, staring at him. She remembered that when she and Cedric had gone into the den her first night at Red's Park to talk, Draco had been being told off by his older self. Had the elder Mr. Malfoy not saw fit to tell him what had turned him around?

"Told me _what_, Gin?" he asked impatiently.

She just stared at him, her lip quivering, unable to speak. How could she possibly repeat it to him?

Suddenly he was across the room, his hands gripping her shoulders painfully.

"_Tell me_," he hissed dangerously, his eyes furious and frightened.

She sucked in a breath and opened her mouth.

"Daughter," she whispered, almost inaudibly.

"What?" he breathed, releasing her and stepping quickly backward as though burnt.

"Our daughter!" she shrieked, stamping her foot and feeling the tears starting again. "First our son and then our daughter, Draco! _That_ is what the future is going to be for us. Nothing but death and pain!"

She realized vaguely that she was sobbing again, but it felt so natural by now that she ignored it. It was a few moments later that she realized that she hadn't heard a peep from Draco. She looked at him through her tears.

He was standing perfectly still, his shoulders slumped slightly and eyes lost. He looked so suddenly bereft, so utterly vulnerable. His jaw hung slack as he stared at her, as though hoping against hope that he had misheard. Mutely, she shook her head. His mouth closed and he blinked, shaking his head as though trying to regain the stability that he had suddenly lost. Ginny glanced down and saw his hands fist, his knuckles going white.

For one of a handful of times in her life, she had no idea what to say. How could she comfort him when in her heart she felt that they _should_ be hurting? Anyway, what could she possibly do to remove the pain of losing someone beloved?

She blinked. He really _did_ love Hayden, she realized suddenly. Perhaps he didn't know it, or wouldn't accept it, but had he truly been so indifferent his reactions would have been far less varied and abrupt. His anger shortly after Red Robes departure, his red eyes as they climbed the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office, and his helpless expression now were not the displays of an unfeeling man.

Ginny reached out instinctively for one of his hands, taking it in hers and massaging his fingers gently open. He put up no resistance, and Ginny could feel him shaking. She rubbed her hand as soothingly as she could over his palm and knuckles. She didn't know why she was doing it, but the simple, physical contact was easing the tightness in her chest and, surprisingly, slowing her breathing.

Ginny hadn't any idea how long they stood there, silent, in the middle of the kitchens with their intertwined hands hanging between them. Days afterward, she wouldn't be able to recall what she had been thinking of or even if she had begun to cry again. What she would remember was the warmth of Draco's hand, warmth that seemed to draw the coziness of the kitchen fire into the small space surrounding Draco and Ginny, creating a space of comfort and empathy in which Ginny basked, even as the dull throb in her chest eased.

At last, Draco gave her hand a squeeze and released it, stepping back and putting a respectable distance between them, taking the warmth of the contact and the room with him.

"Well," he said, not looking at her. "I reckon I should be off to bed."

"What, without your éclair?" Ginny said with a faint smile, indicating the pastry that sat on the table beside her and wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"Nah – sugar's not good for your skin," Draco said, his smirk very faint. "I could get all spotty, like Moaning Myrtle."

Ginny felt an unwilling chuckle escape her.

"You know Myrtle?" she asked curiously. "How? Or have you been hanging round the girls' toilets on the second floor?"

"Put it this way," he said, the smirk sliding into a crooked grin. "She knows the plumbing around Hogwarts pretty well and the, um, prefect's bathroom is a favorite haunt of hers. No pun intended."

Ginny snorted. She had heard Harry tell Ron about his trek to the prefect's bathroom to discover the second clue in the Triwizard Tournament three years ago. She had also heard that a ghost had ambushed him. She oughtn't to have been surprised that it had probably been Myrtle.

Her smile faded, as did Draco's.

"Well," he said again, in an uncharacteristically constrained voice. "See you tomorrow."

He turned to leave.

"Draco!" she called.

He paused, but didn't turn.

"I love him, too," she said quietly.

His spine stiffened and for a moment the kitchens were silent. Abruptly, he turned and strode back to her. He took her face in his hands, staring searchingly into her eyes, before planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head. Leaning his forehead against hers for the briefest moment, he whispered, "You're too good for me, Gin," before turning quickly away and almost running from the kitchens.

Ginny sat down, hard, on a nearby stool and didn't move for a long time.

**)PvsM(**

When Draco awoke the following morning, it was to discover that his eyes were red, his pillow was wet, and his hair was in a deplorable state. He could only hope the spot on his pillow had been tears, rather than drool.

"You've certainly looked better, dear," the mirror in his bathroom said, in what it probably meant to be an encouraging voice.

"You're a help," he snapped, wrenching open the cabinet by the sink and digging out ever hair-care potion in his possession, which was to say that by the time he was done the entire countertop was covered. He stared down at them all, not entirely sure where to begin and wondering how much fixing his hair was really going to improve his appearance. He was a wreck, after all.

With this cheerful thought in mind, Draco stomped out of the bathroom and threw himself onto his bed, glaring at the ceiling. Not only was he a mess, he couldn't work up the enthusiasm to do anything about it. Vanity just seemed sort of lame, all of a sudden. He winced as his brain chose that moment to unfog a bit and he remembered the previous night. His gut clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut against the image of his son lying lifeless in Dumbledore's office.

Suddenly a new reverie slid firmly into his mind's eye. Ginny, were eyes streaming, stroking his hand.

_"You're too good for me, Gin_." His own words, and how true they were, he thought bitterly. Ironic – he had just accepted the fact that he didn't deserve a Weasley. He grinned a little, a bittersweet smile. What _would_ his father say to that?

Considering what his father _might_ say to that put Draco in a surprisingly good mood. He was unclear why, but he had had such a shortage of good moods lately that he would take what he could get. Idly toying with images of his father throwing bits of antique china, blasting holes in the walls, and even suffering sudden heart failure, Draco wandered back into the bathroom to see what might be done about his appearance.

Not much was the conclusion he came to several minutes later. Well, never mind. The only people who would remember him like this were Blaise (who could be counted on to keep it an 'inside joke'), Ginny (who was too good a person in general to cause him additional embarrassment), and Potter (on whom he had too much blackmail for there to be much risk of his exposing Draco to ridicule and who, like Ginny, was probably too bloody noble to take advantage of someone else's weakness).

So it transpired that when he appeared in the Great Hall a half-hour later, he had _not_ styled his hair (although he had put his comb to quick use), _not _changed out of his pajamas, and was_ not_ wearing robes. It had actually been rather exhilarating, this not bothering to look immaculate. He had used a simple swelling-reducing charm to return his eyes to their usual, not-red-and-puffy state and pulled on a blue jumper over his pajama top.

Everyone stared at him as he entered the Great Hall. Silence fell.

"Shove it," he advised them all in a bored tone. Spotting Blaise, he strolled over and seated himself beside her.

"You _do_ like to put on a show, don't you?" she said, as he sat down. He noticed that she was dressed in a forest green jumper with a large blue "H" on the front. He had seen this hideous garment before . . . except that it belonged at the Gryffindor table beside Weasley's horrid maroon get-up.

"You, too," he said pointedly, pulling a pot of coffee toward him and pouring a goblet-full. "That is a disgusting jumper, by the way."

"I know," she returned, shrugging. "Not as if it matters, though. This world isn't real. No one will ever know. I mean, I could do a strip-tease right here and only three people would ever remember it happening."

"Ah, but you wouldn't want to traumatize the little Weaslette, would you?" Draco asked, his lip twitching.

"No," Blaise said decidedly, as though giving the matter serious thought. "She's all right, actually. Besides, I'd be worried about Potter jumping me and I wouldn't want to be responsible for anyone getting injured as a result."

Draco snorted.

"What _are_ you going on about, Blaise?" Pansy demanded, staring beadily at her. "It's about Potter, isn't it?"

Blaise ignored her, buttered some toast, and glanced toward the Gryffindor table. Draco followed her gaze over his goblet of coffee. Potter and Ginny were sitting together and staring back at them. They both looked exasperated and unwillingly amused. Potter gave Blaise's jumper a pointed look and rolled his eyes skyward. He said something to Ginny and she snorted loudly enough to be heard across the hall. Draco smirked at her and blew her a kiss.

"Stop it," Blaise muttered. He could hear her smile.

"Why?" he asked.

"You're being a prat."

"I'm enjoying life."

Blaise snorted.

"That's a first."

They ate in silence after that, their housemates giving them wary looks throughout breakfast. Draco noticed Snape enter the Great Hall through the door behind the teachers' table, take one look at him, and attempt to come charging over. He was intercepted by Dumbledore, who spoke quietly to him and shook his head. Snape slowly sat down, his eyes flickering dangerously from Draco's pajamas to Blaise's hideous, clearly Gryffindor, jumper. His expression clearly stated that they were a disgrace to their House and Purebloods everywhere and they could feel free to feed themselves to the giant squid.

They both promptly ignored this, enjoying their power gleefully, as only true Slytherins could. They knew they could do anything they wanted for the next several days, anything at all, and neither Snape nor Filch nor the irascible McGonagall could do anything about it.

Draco's eyes raked over the inhabitants of the hall, and came to rest on Ginny again. She and Potter were no longer looking at him. They were both looking a bit depressed, putting random bits of food into theirs mouths and staring blankly in opposite directions.

"We should do something fun," Draco said abruptly to Blaise.

"'Do something _fun_'?" Blaise repeated carefully, looking at him worriedly. "Did the word 'fun' just escape the lips of Draco Malfoy? Be still, my heart!"

"Oh, stuff it," Draco advised. "I know how to have fun."

"Your idea of fun usually involves the suffering of others," Blaise pointed out, snagging his coffee cup and taking a sip. She winced. "Black – that's utterly vile."

"It isn't – you just have the elegant taste of a Muggle," Draco shot back, retrieving the cup and selfishly clutching it to his chest.

"Anyway, back to your 'fun' idea . . ." Blaise said, her lip twitching.

"Well, Potter and Gin are going to spend the day sulking around and we've all already lived through this week, so why not knock off school and go to Hogsmeade or something?" he suggested. "Who'd be able to stop us?"

"Dumbledore," Blaise said bluntly.

"Nah," Draco said. "He knows this world is fake. He said to rest and recuperate, remember? So let's!"

Blaise gave him a look that told him she thought he was completely out of lunch.

"You're mental," she confirmed a moment later. Then she smiled. It was possibly the second time Draco had ever seen a genuine smile on her face. "Let's go."

**)PvsM(**

"What do you suppose Malfoy is up to?" Harry asked Ginny in an undertone.

"What d'you mean?" Ginny asked dully, toying with her hash browns.

"Gin, _look_ at him!" Harry said, gesturing at the blonde. Malfoy was saying something to Blaise, something that was making her eyebrows disappear into her hairline. They watched as Blaise said something back, before a wide grin spread across her pretty face. Even though that grin was not directed at him, Harry felt a familiar lurch in his stomach. A moment later, the two Slytherins got to their feet.

Harry and Ginny exchanged raised eyebrows when they found themselves accosted a moment later.

"Come on, Potter, we're going," Blaise said, hauling him to his feet.

"Going?" Ginny said blankly, as she, too, was removed from her chair by Malfoy. They were all momentarily distracted by Snape diving over the top of the teacher's table and Sinistra and Dumbledore attempting to restrain him.

"Oy! Lay off my sister!" Ron snarled, jumping to his feet as well and calling Harry's attention back to the Gryffindor table. He paused when he noticed Blaise's attire. "Where did you get that?"

"It's on loan," Harry jumped in before Blaise or Malfoy could say anything derogatory.

"On_ loan_ – Harry, she's wearing your jumper!" Ron said, gaping at him as though he had a tea cozy on his head.

"Oh, shove off, Ron – it's not like he doesn't have ten thousand of them," Ginny said dismissively. "Where're we going, Draco?"

"Draco?" Ron demanded, turning his glare on her. "_Draco? _What_ are _you going on about?"

Ginny ignored him, her eyes steadily trained on the blonde.

"Out," he said simply. "Come along, Ginevra."

"See you," Harry called helplessly to Ron and Hermione as Blaise pulled him after Ginny and Malfoy.

"Draco, we've got class in twenty minutes," Ginny pointed out when they had gained the entrance hall.

"No, we don't," he said blithely, turning to face the Gryffindors. "We have a date with Hogsmeade."

"Do we?" said Harry, eyeing him suspiciously. "And how do you figure that?"

"Oh, wake up, Potter," Malfoy said, sounding annoyed. "This isn't the real world. Nothing we do here _matters_. Dumbledore said _relax_. We've technically already done these lessons. I happen to remember having a really bad week. Let's ditch class and enjoy ourselves. I know I've not done enough of that lately." He glanced at Harry again, saw his hesitant expression, and rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Potter, how much snogging are you and Blaise going to be able to do if you're stuck in this god-forsaken school for the next three days?"

Harry felt his face grow warm, but restrained himself from turning to look at Blaise and followed Malfoy silently toward the front door.

"Wait – if you get to wear your pajamas, I want to as well," Ginny said petulantly.

"Sure you want to entice Draco even more, Weasley?" Blaise asked with a twitch of her lip.

"I'm not 'enticing' anyone, Zabini!" Ginny said hotly, her cheeks flushing. "But I'll feel stupid going to Hogsmeade dressed like this when you two look so casual."

"Me, too," Harry said, realizing that he, too, would look foolish dressed in his uniform.

Twenty minutes later, Ginny and Harry returned in various states of dressed-down, and marching down the front path of the school toward the rot iron gates.

"Actually, they could have got loads of snogging done, anyway," Ginny pointed out to Malfoy. "Have you any idea how many broom closets Hogwarts has? There are at least twelve on the seventh floor alone."

"You seem awfully knowledgeable about forbidden snogging, little weasel," Malfoy said, sounding faintly amused.

"Don't call me weasel! And I am quite knowledgeable about snogging, thank you," Ginny said primly, skipping along beside him. Harry bit his lip to keep from smiling.

"Willing to prove it?" Malfoy asked, though his voice was mischievous, rather than malicious, which Harry thought made for a nice change.

"Maybe." Ginny quickly looked at the ground and a momentary silence fell. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. Harry felt good, strolling down the road toward Hogsmeade on that surprisingly clear, crisp, pre-spring day. Though they were a bizarre band, Harry felt good about being with Blaise and Ginny and Malfoy. He supposed that they might be considered friends now, particularly after the events of last night. Harry bit his lip. The ache of seeing his daughter dead for the second time was still sharp. What an unnecessary waste! He wondered that Dumbledore still insisted that it was necessary. How could any death be necessary?

Well, except Lord Voldemort's. But there was a big difference between the death of someone who was causing hundreds of deaths and an innocent little girl. Harry swallowed. He just didn't believe it. Their original purpose in going forward in time had been to save Hayden and Tristy and they had failed.

Twice.

"What're you thinking about?" Blaise asked quietly from his side. She twined her fingers through his as they strolled along. Harry swallowed back the pain and tried not to think about it. Dwelling on Tristy couldn't save her, he knew. There would be time enough to mourn. For now, he needed to relax and get ready to stop Red Robes for good.

"Just trying to remember what I would be doing in real-time right now," he lied to Blaise with a faint smile. Well, it wasn't _quite_ a lie.

"Going to Transfiguration – ugh!" Ginny said.

"Creating new and clever ways of harassing the Dream Team," Draco said innocently, "whilst leading a merry band of Slytherins to Care of Magical Creatures."

"I would be right behind you, wishing you would be eaten by a screwt," Harry said, his grin widening.

"I suppose I would have been part of the 'merry band of Slytherins,'" Blaise said, reaching out with her foot to give Draco's leg a kick. "That's how people see us Slytherins, you know. It's not, 'Oh, no, here come Malfoy and Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle and Parkinson.' It's, 'Oh, no, here comes Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins.'"

"I knew your name," Harry told her.

"But you wouldn't have come anywhere near me before this whole mess began," she pointed out.

"My loss." He leaned over and kissed her cheek, which was surprisingly warm, considering how brisk the air was.

"Potter, you sicken me," Malfoy said flatly.

"You're just jealous because you're not as smooth as I am," Harry said smugly.

"Oh, yeah – so smooth," Malfoy said sarcastically. "How did you put it? 'Hey, Cho, wanna-go-ball-with-me?'"

"What – you _heard_ that?" Harry said, feeling his face flush.

"Sure." The blonde shrugged. "I was actually going to ask her, but then I overheard her telling you that she was going with Diggory, so I went with Pansy instead."

"Pansy would be furious if she knew she'd been a second choice!" Blaise said gleefully.

"Don't go ticking her off, Blaise," Draco said sharply. "We'll never hear the end of it."

"Oh, but as you so kindly reminded us, this world isn't real," Blaise said, with an innocent little smile. "Really, you'd only have to put up with the whining for another four days."

"I'll kill you, Blaise," Draco stated flatly, glaring over his shoulder at her.

"Oooh, I'm shaking in my little boots," Blaise said sarcastically, indicating her knee-high, suede, Eskimo-style footwear.

The rest of the walk to Hogsmeade was pleasant. The sun was sitting cheerfully high in the sky by the time they reached the high street.

"We've got free run of the place," Draco pointed out. "Where should we go?"

"How about Madam Puddifoot's?" Ginny asked innocently.

Harry felt himself go red again and glared at her.

"What is this, Mock Harry Potter Day?" he muttered.

"What?" Blaise asked, staring back and forth between them.

"Nothing!" he said, trying to give Ginny and threatening frown.

Ginny giggled.

"Just another inside joke about Harry's dating escapades," she said.

"Let's not relive them, please – my former arch-nemesis is standing two feet away."

"Oh, but it's fascinating, really," Malfoy gushed. "Tell all, Gin!"

Ginny regarded the injured look on Harry's face for a long moment.

"Nah," she said at length. "There's a chance that you'd remember when we get out of this bubble thing, Draco, and I don't want you to mock him for the rest of his life because he has no tact when it comes to women."

Harry said, "Hey!" at the same time that Malfoy said pointedly, "Girls, you mean." Both comments were followed by exclamations of "ow!" from both boys as they were struck by Blaise and Ginny, respectively.

"What did _I_ do?" Harry muttered balefully, rubbing his arm.

At length, they chose the Three Broomsticks and spent several hours drinking butterbeer, eating as many chips as Rosmerta would bring them, and discussing the last few weeks at length. Unfortunately, they were no closer to knowing who Red Robes might be, what his motives were, or how Blaise tied into the whole thing. They stayed well away from the subject of their children, when it was possible, and no one would bring up the events of the previous evening.

"I say we drop it," Malfoy said, when they had all decided they had had enough butterbeer and left the pub. "We don't have anything to go off that we didn't have yesterday. We'll just have to hope we can capture him when we get out of this bubble."

"I hate it when you're right," Blaise muttered, following him out into the windswept street.

"It happens so rarely, though – took me quite by surprise," Ginny asked, grinning mischievously at the blonde.

Malfoy glared at her.

"You are a twit," he announced, after a moment's heavy thought.

"Smooth, Malfoy," Harry chortled, gripping Blaise's hand. "Very smooth."

They made their rounds ofHoneyduke's and Zonko's. Ginny also insisted they go have a peep at the Shrieking Shack, although Harry's own knowledge of it meant that he was less than impressed by the creaks and groans and its ominous appearance.

At length, Malfoy began to whine about being tired – it grew more high-pitched when Ginny called him a "poor little dear" – so they decided to return to the castle.

"What will everyone say when we come back?" Blaise wondered as they made their leisurely way back up High Street. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Half six – dinner's going to be starting any minute," Harry said, glancing at his watch.

"Means we'll walk into a stampede in the entrance hall and we'll never hear the end of it," Ginny sighed. "My brother'll be up my arse about it."

"Never mind what Snape will do to _us_," Blaise said sarcastically.

Harry paused. They were right, he knew. Ron and Hermione would be really worried about him, since they hadn't seen him in classes and the last place they _had_ seen him was with two Slytherins and Ginny. There were two other ways to get back to the school from here – but Harry hadn't told anyone apart from Ron and Hermione about the hidden passageways from the Shrieking Shack and Honeyduke's cellar. He glanced at Blaise and Malfoy, who were looking gloomy at the thought of a face-off with Snape.

"There's – there's another way we could get back," he said, after a long moment.

The others looked at him, clearly interested.

"Mind you, it'll be hard to get to at this time of day and it's a long trip back," he added. "But it would take us right inside the castle, to the third floor. We could find alternative routes back to our common rooms from there."

"I'm game," Ginny said immediately. "Does this have anything to do with the Marauder's Map?"

"Yeah," Harry said reluctantly. Malfoy and Blaise _had_ seen a copy of the Marauder's Map in the future, but it had been bewitched to show whatever area the possessor was currently in, not the passages of Hogwarts or the seven secret passages _out_.

"Let's go, then," Blaise said, giving his hand a small squeeze.

Harry led the way slowly back down the high street toward Honeyduke's, trying to squash his anxiety. Yesterday (technically), he wouldn't have trusted Malfoy further than he could throw him, but now . . . well, he knew he could count on the blonde not to use the passage to rob Honeyduke's – git would say it was beneath him.

Although it was early evening, Honeyduke's was fairly busy – fathers on their way home from work, grandparents with their excitable charges, friends from nearby country neighborhoods – and it wasn't hard to get to the front of the shop without attracting attention. Getting behind the counter and into the cellar proved a more daunting challenge, but not an impossible one.

Pretending to be extremely interested in the "Just Arrived" display beside the counter, they waited until both Mr. and Mrs. Honeyduke'swere busy with customers. Then Harry gave a careful look around before dropping onto his hands and knees and crawling stealthily toward the open door to the cellar. Blaise, Malfoy, and Ginny followed him in quick succession.

"It's not like it would've mattered if we'd just come down," Malfoy muttered, rubbing balefully at his kneecaps.

"Nothing we do here matters – yeah, yeah," Ginny whispered loudly. "But they could still complain about us, which would eat up time. And we _have_ to be able to be in the Astronomy Tower Friday night in preparation for the shift to real time."

"Plus we've got a Quidditch match to play in," Harry pointed out quietly, wrenching open the trapdoor and standing back for the others to get in first. "Who knows, Malfoy? I might let you get the Snitch again."

"Very charitable of you," Blaise quipped, ducking down into the passage. She wrinkled her nose and glanced up questioningly up at Harry. "Bit cold and dark down here, Potter."

He grinned mischievously and offered a woeful expression.

"Any other time, Zabini . . . "

"You two," Malfoy said, hopping down beside Blaise with a snort of disgust, "make me _sick_."

"Our work here is finish, then," Blaise said blithely, as Ginny clambered down beside her with a giggle. "Coming, Potter?"

He jumped down between her and Malfoy and pulled the trapdoor shut, plunging them into darkness.

"Malfoy, if that was your hand . . . " came Ginny's menacing voice a moment later.

"What, you think if I wanted to grope you I'd wait till it was dark?" he said haughtily.

"Still, you're not denying anything," Harry pointed out in amusement, withdrawing his wand. "_Lumos_."

A dim light erupted from the end of the wand, casting a light toward the long flight of stairs before them. He led the way, remembering as he went just how long the walk back was. Still, with other people it seemed much shorter. Ginny and Malfoy's banter continued the entire way, which served to amused, and then annoy Harry and Blaise.

Blaise was a bit more vocal about her irritation.

"It's the two of you that need a dark, abandoned corridor," she muttered, lengthening her stride in a vain attempt to outstrip them.

"Actually, we need an abandoned common room," Ginny retorted under her breath.

"What?" Malfoy said, breaking off mid-smirk to regard her in mild surprise.

Ginny actually blushed.

"Oh, it was just something Dorian told me when we were escaping from Diagon Alley," she said slowly. "He told me how . . . that is, erm –"

"How you and Malfoy _finally_ hitched up?" Blaise supplied with a smirk that only Harry could see.

"Right, that," Ginny said, Harry turned his head in time to catch a glimpse of bright red ears and blazing cheeks.

"How did it happen?" Malfoy asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Oh, sod off, I'm not telling you anything," Ginny snapped. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

It was a bit of a mad scramble when they reached the dirt slide that led downward from the statue of the one-eyed witch. Harry couldn't remember how he had done it so fast when running back during his third year after pelting Malfoy with mud, but this time it was definitely more difficult. Harry scrambled up first on his hands and knees, using minute roots to pull himself along. When he reached the top, he tried to listen for noises in the corridor beyond, but had little success. The stone witch's hump was blocking out sound.

Still, he thought, it didn't much matter if he was caught. As long as he played Quidditch Friday and was able to slip away early, he could afford a few detentions.

It then occurred to him that he and Malfoy were going to have to make it the world's fastest game in order to finish early enough to make it to the Astronomy Tower in time.

"Anytime before next year, Potter," said-same Slytherin called up to him, sounding annoyed.

Harry blinked and withdrew his wand from where it had been stored in his pocket for the climb.

"_Ascendium_," he said, and the witch's hump slid open. He jumped down and glanced furtively up and down the corridor, but most everyone was at dinner and the corridor seemed empty.

"Come on," he called quietly. One by one Ginny, Blaise, and finally Malfoy dropped from the humped, which sealed itself behind them as soon as Malfoy was clear.

"Well, that was fun," Blaise said sarcastically, dusting herself off.

"We'd better go," Harry said, absentmindedly reaching out to help her.

"If you're quite done feeling Blaise up," Malfoy said snarkily.

"You're a prat," Harry told him flatly, trying not to blush and removing his hands. He fancied that Blaise gave him a disappointed look.

"What're we going to do tomorrow?" Ginny asked.

"I was thinking about that on the way back," Blaise said slowly. "And I don't think we should do this again."

"Why not?" Malfoy demanded.

"Because even if what we do – or don't do – doesn't matter, it'll slow us down and be a nuisance to have everyone in the school getting their knickers in a twist about our _scandalous_ behavior," she said. "How will we be able to enjoy ourselves if everyone's breathing down our necks the whole time?"

"Alternative?" Ginny hazarded.

"Pretend that we don't feel well and are having lie-ins and then sneak out when our dorms are empty," Blaise suggested. "Stay close to the castle, go to meals, and still have fun without having to redo our lessons."

"Actually, I think I might," Ginny said.

They all stared at her.

"What?" she said defensively. "I did really badly in my Potions class last – er, tomorrow, actually and it would be a help if I could do it over – get it right, you know. Especially since I have a midterm next week."

"Well, since it's Snape you can pretend you were poisoned or something and stay in Thursday," Harry pointed out.

"Wow – it _is_ almost Wednesday, isn't it?" Blaise said.

"Fun as all this is," Malfoy drawled.

"Does Mr. Cranky Pants need a nap?" Ginny wheedled, tweaking his nose.

Malfoy smirked. "Only if you join me, Gin."

"One more thing before you go," Harry said, pulling Ginny back before she could kick Malfoy's shins. "In order for us to be done with Quidditch in time to get the Astronomy Tower on Friday, it's going to have to be a _really_ fast game."

"You could just concede to me now, Potter," Malfoy smirked.

"_Or_ we could help each other look for the Snitch and I'll – I'll _let_ you get it," Harry gritted out.

"Such a sacrifice," the blonde said, although he looked surprised, rather than smug. "All right, Potter, compromise. Whoever's closer gets it."

Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"This is a thing unheard of," Blaise said, staring back and forth between them. "Slytherin and Gryffindor _negotiating _the fastest capture of the Snitch."

Malfoy grimaced.

"Kindly don't remind us," he said sharply. "Deal, Potter?"

He solemnly offered his hand.

"Deal," Harry agreed soberly, taking it.

"I think you might be taking this a bit seriously," Ginny said, failing to stifle a grin. "This is a Quidditch match you've already played in a universe that isn't real."

"Shut up, Weasley – it's the principle of the thing," Malfoy snapped, dropping Harry's hand.

"See you Friday, then," Blaise said. She reached out and pulled Harry toward her by his collar.

"When you're quite through here," Malfoy said, eyes rolling. "I'll be in the common room."

"I'll miss you terribly," Blaise deadpanned before pressing her lips to Harry's.

Harry distantly heard two sets of footsteps retreating down opposite corridors.

**)PvsM(**

The next two days passed slowly, but thankfully uneventfully. Ginny did her best not to think about her son or Tristy, but it wasn't easy. Fortunately, her brother and her friends kept her busy questioning her about her behavior on Tuesday morning. As she had chosen to attend classes Wednesday, she was eventually left for innocent by most of them.

It _was_ helpful to redo her Potions class. She quickly discovered the key points that she had missed the first time around and was able to correct her mistakes and actually scrape good marks for the class.

_If only I could do this every week – I might actually understand some of this_, she thought as she deposited her bottle of completed Impervious Tonic into Snape's hands.

"Well, well – who was whispering in your ear today, Miss Weasley?" Snape sneered, when the potions turned the proper shade of pink under his administration of two drops of hippopotamus oil.

"A tall blonde, sir," she said with a grin, thinking of Draco.

She supposed it was rather a moot point, because she had already botched this lesson in real time, but it was the thought that counted. She needed to do well in Potions if she was to be a healer someday. She knew she _could_ become a healer – the future they had visited had assured her of that. But she still had the option not to – the opportunity to let her studies go and settle with something simpler.

That power to alter the future – did she indeed possess it? Did any of them? Or was it really simply a path they were walking? Had all of the choices already been made? Was she destined to have Hayden in four years? Was Blaise really going to be giving birth to Cedric in a little over a year?

It was too surreal! Harry . . . married and a father. While she was glad that the idea didn't smart the way it might have a couple of years ago, she was also not sure she liked it. After all, they would soon be facing a war – probably the war to end all wars. The chances of them surviving were good, judging by the future they had seen, but . . .

She shook her head. Dwelling on things that were going to happen, whether she was worried about them or not, was not going to do her any good. She tucked them away in the back of her mind to deal with later and resolutely made for Charms. She remembered that day's lesson being a fun one. She could attend Charms and Divination and pretend to be ill before Transfiguration.

She went through the rest of the day concentrating with all her might on doing well in classes. It helped that she already knew the charm they were practicing (this excited Professor Flitwick so much that he fell of his pile of books) and it was especially amusing that she knew exactly which curse Professor Trelawney was going to tell Colin he was under. When Ginny jumped in before her and suggested that perhaps Colin was suffering because of the double alignment of Mercury and Pluto, and Jupiter and Mars, the professor was almost beside herself with glee.

"I have always perceived something particularly bright about your aura, my dear," Trelawney told her mistily, before turning away to harass Derek Springs. Ginny and Colin laughed all the way down from the North Tower.

Following her original plan, Ginny skipped Transfiguration, telling Colin to let McGonagall know that she was unwell. Colin was concerned, but didn't ask any questions. Ginny spent her afternoon spiffing up on Potions and hoping to see Harry in the evening to discuss the game plan.

She discovered from Hermione after she and Ron returned from dinner that Harry was out on the pitch with Draco – "of all people, Ginny!" – and they were having a fast and furious contest to see who could – surprise, surpise – catch the Snitch first.

"Honestly, Ginny!" Hermione ranted on, while Ron sat moodily staring out of a window toward the Quidditch pitch. "The way they were carrying on, you'd think they were actually enjoying each other's company."

Ginny rolled her eyes, and thankfully Hermione misconstrued this as equal disgust and abhorrence. Ginny made a mental note to mention to Harry that if he and Draco didn't start behaving in a marginally normal manner, they might accidentally get themselves removed from the match. Then there would be no sneaking anywhere!

They felt differently. She found them still hard at it in the air above the pitch and they only came down after she had shouted herself hoarse.

"It's not that bad, Gin," Harry said. His eyes were bright, his face flushed. He looked as though all his cares had flown from his head. "If we get kicked out, everyone will think we don't want to watch the match because we're bitter. It'll be a perfect excuse to be alone and everyone else will be out on the pitch."

"And suppose Ron or Hermione – who, by the way, are both questioning your _sanity_ – come looking for you and keep you from getting to the Astronomy Tower somehow?" Ginny demanded, realizing almost immediately that this was a battle she was not going to win.

"Stop fussing, Ginevra," Draco put in imperiously. "Anyone who gets in our way can be . . . dealt with."

"Oh, very melodramatic!" Ginny snapped, stalking off the pitch. She heard the _whoosh_ of the brooms lifting off behind her. A moment later, Draco's head appeared in front of her, upside down as he hung comically from his broom. Harry's head appeared beside his seconds after.

"Honestly, Gin, don't be in a snit," the former said, offering a crooked smile that was probably as close to encouraging as Draco could manage. "Two more days and we're gone. Let us have a bit of fun. You know we're not going to have any when we get back."

"What do you mean?" she muttered, still sulking.

"Well, I'm going to be in deep, for one thing," Harry said, scratching his head and looking absurdly like a monkey. "I did exactly what Dumbledore told me not to, for one thing. I dragged you lot into, for another."

"Oh, don't worry, Potter," Draco said, crooked smile immediately a smirk. "You're the famous Harry Potter. Purveyor of true and justice. Dumbledore's about likely to expel you as he is to adopt me."

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

"Yeah, it's not like you aren't going to be busted as well," Ginny pointed out.

"I live for adversity," the blonde said unconcernedly. "Come on, Potter, before it gets dark."

They took off into the distant, Harry offering Ginny a reassuring smile before zipping off after Draco. Ginny sighed and returned in doors.

_Well, I tried_, she thought resignedly, wondering idly what Blaise was up to.

As it turned out, Blaise was just finished with dinner and met Ginny in the entrance hall.

"I just hope they don't do anything stupid, like call each other 'Harry' and Draco'," was all she had to say when Ginny told her what the boys were up to.

Then she led Ginny to the kitchens, where they sat munching on bonbons and chocolate wafers and chatted lightly about everything from boyfriends to the stupidest things they had ever done. Ginny was surprised at how easy it was to talk to the Slytherin girl and wondered vaguely why she hadn't tried it before. She supposed that the difference in years, houses, and company kept probably accounted for most of it. Still, with two weeks of close contact under their belts, Ginny rather hoped that the animosity wouldn't reawaken in the real timeline.

They left the kitchens at last and returned to their respective common rooms. Blaise seemed as pleased with the interaction as Ginny felt, which was a good sign. Silencing her brother's demands about where she had been by saying she had been to the hospital wing, Ginny retreated to her dorm to plan her next day's activities and get a good night's sleep.

Thursday dawned bright and clear and Ginny, after begging off of classes due to illness, crept from her dorm, still pajama-clad, and spent a quiet morning by herself by the lake, reading one of the many novels she had set aside and intended to begin just as soon as she finished all of her homework. She returned to the dormitory in time to be in bed before her friends returned from morning lessons to collect their books for the afternoon. Satisfied that she was asleep, they left and Ginny was able to sneak out for the afternoon as well. She stuffed her sheets with pillows in case any of her friends came to check on her again before dinner and then headed to the kitchens to get a picnic.

She spent the rest of the day _not_ thinking about the following evening and enjoying three of her chosen novels uninterrupted. When she had consumed her food and finished her book, darkness was falling. She returned to the dormitory and crawled back into bed. Surprisingly, she was asleep almost immediately.

She went to all of her classes the next day, wanting to get back into the groove of regular life. She saw Draco and Harry in the halls between classes and assumed that they were doing the same. Harry corrected this assumption in a sullen tone to her at lunch.

"Blaise hunted us down last night and forced us to promise to go to classes," he told her, stabbing at a potato in his stew with his spoon. "Said people would be suspicious if we didn't show up in classes and then magically appeared at the match."

"She right," Ginny said, torn between satisfaction that they had finally come to their senses and annoyance that they had listened to Blaise instead of her. "How did she get you to agree?"

"Threatened to pretend she hated me when we get back," Harry muttered, glaring across the hall.

"And Draco?"

Harry cracked a smile.

"Threatened to set Pansy Parkinson on him when we get back," he said, nodding toward the blonde, who was sitting as far from Pansy as possible and glowering at Blaise.

"What about Pansy Parkinson, Harry?" Ron asked, sinking into the chair across from Harry and staring back and forth between him and Ginny.

"Imagine being in a dark room and having her lips coming at you," Hermione said, sitting down beside Ron.

"What?" the redhead said, looking horrified. "Ugh, I feel dirty just thinking about it. Yuck! What made you say something like that, Mione? Honestly!"

Ginny went through the rest of the day with a small smile on her face every time she saw Pansy.

As the Quidditch match drew closer, however, she felt a tension build in her stomach, making it ache slightly. She realized halfway out to the pitch that she had chewed off most of her fingernails. She knew why she was nervous. While the evening's events were a looming disaster waiting to happen, she was more concerned about whether Harry and Draco would be able to finish the match quickly enough.

She climbed into the Gryffindor stands with her friends, keeping as close to the exit as she could and hoping that no one would get in her way. She wished she had talked to Blaise about somewhere they all might meet to go up to the tower after the match.

_Stop worrying_, she chided herself. _It won't help anyone._

Instead, she pulled out her Omnioculars and scanned the field for any sign of the others. The three of them were playing, so it would be up to her to meet them. What she saw was the field and something black hurdling toward her. She ripped the Omnioculars from her eyes and threw herself backwards before she realized what it was.

The owl landed on the seatback in front of her and regarded her with condescension.

"Sod off," Ginny told it, untangling the letter badly knotted to its leg. It nipped her fingers rather harshly.

"You must be Blaise's," she muttered balefully, pulling her hands back and rubbing them resentfully. The dark bird instantly took flight, ruffling its tail feathers at her.

"Nice," she muttered, unrolling the hastily scrawled note.

_Outside entrance, five minutes after._

It took Ginny a minute, but then she got it – outside the entrance to the castle, five minutes after the match was won. She glanced down at the pitch where the players were just coming onto the field. Ginny focused her Omnioculars on the Slytherin team. Blaise stood on Draco's left. She was staring straight at Ginny. Ginny lifted her hand slightly and gave a brief thumbs-up. Blaise nodded once and turned her attention to the opposing Gryffindors, who had just marched onto the pitch opposite them.

Ginny lowered the Omnioculars and glanced to her left. She was one row down from the exit of the Gryffindor box. As long as she could get there in the crush of excitement when Harry or Draco got the Snitch, she ought to make it out of the stadium before anyone missed her. She could only hope Harry, Blaise, and Draco would be as lucky.

She watched Draco and Harry shake hands. Draco sneered and Harry narrowed his eyes. Whatever reparation had occurred in their relationship over the last two weeks, competition on the pitch had clearly not changed one wit. Ginny hoped they would remember how important it was to end the game quickly. When the game had first been played, Harry had been distracted and Draco had caught the Snitch fairly quickly. They had half an hour at best, and that was pushing it.

Ginny had sit on her hands to keep herself from biting her nails as the game began.

Fortunately, it didn't appear that either Harry or Draco was so involved in the game that they forgot the time restraint. Draco was trailing Harry closely, but Ginny noticed that Harry was allowing it, not trying to shake the blonde. And both were searching the pitch – Draco wasn't just allowing Harry to look, as was his style.

They were high above the game for the first ten minutes. Then Ginny, who had picked up the Omnioculars again, saw Harry say something to Draco. The blonde nodded and took off up the pitch. Ron, passing underneath them just after this exchange, called something up to Harry. Harry answered briefly, and Ron sped off, looking mildly satisfied. Harry waited until his friend was away before shaking his head and returning his attention to the game. Ginny was fairly sure what the whole exchange had been about.

Sure enough, Draco was scouring the opposite end of the pitch. Clearly they were feeling the crunch. He stayed well away from the warring Chasers, who were tearing up the pitch under his position over the Gryffindor goalposts, Blaise in their midst. Harry was weaving around the Slytherin goalposts. Ginny vaguely remembered that the first time the Snitch had been spotted during the original game, it had been near one of the two goalposts. Clearly, they couldn't remember which one.

It turned out to be Draco's. He dove suddenly, just as Blaise scored. He zipped deftly between his teammates and Ron, who was Gryffindor's Keeper, and went straight for the ground. Ginny jumped to her feet with everyone else.

_Please – please catch it, Draco_! she thought frantically. She saw Harry go streaking up the pitch, but unless the Snitch swerved suddenly . . .

It _did_. Now Ginny remembered why neither of them had caught the Snitch that time during the original match. It had swerved when Draco had gone for it and gone between the Gryffindor Beaters.

Fortunately, Harry was waiting on the other side of the Beaters this time and deftly snatched the Snitch out from under Natalie McDonald's nose. The stadium exploded in cheers and boos alike. Ginny saw Draco swerve around the Beaters and drop like a rock toward the pitch. Blaise wasn't far behind him. Ginny turned and began pushing her way toward the exit. It took some doing since everyone else was heading for the field as well. Eventually she gave up and let the throng of Gryffindors sweep her along. When they finally reached the pitch, Ginny began pushing frantically toward the entrance to the pitch.

Abruptly, someone grabbed her elbow.

"Come on," Draco called above the deafening roar of the crowd, dragging her against the flow. They finally escaped and stumbled out onto the completed deserted front lawn.

"You'd think they'd never seen a bloody Quidditch match before," Draco groused, dusting himself off.

"You're just bent out of shape because Harry caught the Snitch," Ginny teased, nudging him.

"Am not," he returned childishly, nudging back.

A moment later, Blaise appeared, looking harassed and worried.

"I had Potter for a minute, but I lost him during the influx of Gryffindors," she said, staring back into the packed stadium.

"I bet he ducked down and went for the lockers," Draco guessed, staring fixedly at the door to the Gryffindor lockers. "I've done that before."

"Just hope he's quick," Blaise muttered, glancing at her watch. "I've timed it – we have ten minutes to be in the Astronomy Tower."

It was then that Harry made his appearance. Just as Draco predicted, he appeared from the lockers, poking his head cautiously out. Seeing that the coast was clear, he sprinted across the lawn to join them.

"What kept you?" Blaise demanded.

"The masses," Harry quipped. "Autographs to be signed, photos to be had –"

"Oh, stuff it, Potter," Draco said petulantly.

"Hey, we're even, now," Harry pointed out as they jogged across the front lawn. He actually chuckled. "How wild is that? We've both won the same match."

"Guess we're tied," Draco said, cocking his head to the side as if considering this. He grinned suddenly. "We'll have to have it out when we get back."

They went the rest of the way to the Astronomy Tower in silence, each slowly coming to terms with the challenge ahead of them. One by one, their smiles dropped. They had one chance to get this right – one chance to catch Red Robes and keep themselves alive. They had missed their chance to save Hayden and Tristy. Ginny winced and pushed the thought away. Now was _definitely_ not the time to indulge in anxiety.

They reached the tower steps and sprinted up. Ginny was gasping for breath by the time they reached the door. Draco pushed it open and they stepped inside.

It was a bit of a shock to see a shimmering image of themselves facing Red Robes positioned before them. It was like watching a watery reflection of the events. Red Robes' back was to the door and the four of them were standing opposite, grouped around Harry. None of the apparitions reacted to their entrance.

"Foolish girl," Red Robes scoffed. "You have no idea who you're speaking to."

"No kidding," Ginny's flickering, blue-tinged image retorted. "That's why we asked who you are."

"Weird," the Blaise standing beside corporeal Ginny muttered.

"Come on," Harry said quickly, leading them forward. "We should get behind Red Robes so we have the element of surprise."

They were actually positioned just right as they were. Draco stepped just off to the right and Harry a little to the left. They would be just outside his peripheral vision.

_"You killed them?" Harry's image snarled. The flickering Draco beside him__reached behind him with difficulty and gave Harry's hand a sharp jab to remind him to focus._

_"Of course I did," Red Robes answered silkily. "I doubt there's anyone else around this miserable place capable of murder."_

"Get ready," Draco muttered, his wand arm poised. Ginny glanced back briefly and saw the flicker of determination in his eyes. She had a feeling they were remembering the same thing – their failure with Hayden.

Draco, she was sure, did not intend to fail again.

"Ginny, Blaise," Harry said urgently. "You're in the best positions to get him. If we're disoriented by the transition, you two have the best chance of stunning him. I'd better say the incantation to burst the bubble. Malfoy, concentrate on getting his Time-Turners away from him – remember that he has at least two."

"Right," Ginny and Draco murmured simultaneously. Blaise didn't speak. Her lips were white, as were her fingers clenched in a vice-like grip around her Caduceus.

_"Enough of this!" Red Robes said, hefting his wand again. "Potter, give it to me!"_

_"Too late," the ethereal Blaise said smugly._

Ginny tensed. This was it. The images of the four of them flickered out as Harry turned the Time-Turner over and over.

_"Restoratus Temporal_!" the remaining Harry shouted.

**)PvsM(**

TBC – final chapter to follow.

**P.S.** I know some of you may be bitter that there is a juicy snog between Harry and Blaise and nada en especial para Draco and Ginny. It's coming! Would it be half so fun if the snog just . . . happened? Didn't think so! Soon! V. soon!


	16. War's End Part 2 :Beginning again

A/N: Okay, people, this is it. Okay, not it. There's still the VERY end to write – namely, the epilogue, which will be a series of scenes immediately following and spanning outward from the end of this chapter. By the end of this chapter, you will understand all. Don't worry; PLENTY of D/G in the epilogue and, I think, a fair bit in this chapter. Sorry it's not more graphic. I know I've been pushing Blaise/Harry quite a bit more. There IS a reason for that, have no fear. Remember that in the timeline they discover in the future, Harry and Blaise are together straight away after leaving school, whereas Ginny and Draco take longer to develop their relationship. Patience, my good readers.

This is your fifty-eight page Christmas present from your grateful authoress. THANKS for reading, reviewing thoughtfully, and e-mailing me. It's been a fantastic process and your support has kept me going.

Happy Christmas!

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good – er, I mean, we own nothing. Yeah . . .

Additional a/n: I want you to know, before you start, that due to my reckless promise to get this to you before Christmas, editing on this chapter (which took many, many late nights to write and never seemed to end!) has been scant. BIG BIG thanks to XX, my beloved beta, who did a fantastic, last-minute peep at it for me. I don't think there are any serious plot holes or slip-ups. I think we caught them all and I hope everything is clear to you. I WILL be editing this at some point, but you were all so eager to see it that I thought I might as well post it as not. It'll do well enough to satisfy any War's End withdrawls

CHEERS!

)PvsM(

It was as though a curtain of blue light dropped before their eyes, darting in from either side of their peripheral vision and drawing seamlessly together before them. Blaise blinked desperately against the haze, but her vision didn't clear. She reached out, groping for Harry or Ginny, who had been on either side of her moments before. Now there was only blue and nothing solid. She wasn't even sure _she_ was substantial – she felt almost as though she were floating.

_Red Robes_, her mind gibbered. _Focus on Red Robes_. _If you can't see, how're you supposed to stun him?_

You could just kill him, another voice spoke up. It was the part of her that deeply hated Red Robes with every fiber of its being.

_Quiet, you're not helping_, the first voice admonished, the one that didn't encourage her to do things that would make her no better than Red Robes and that wouldn't help capture the bastard. They needed him alive – otherwise they couldn't prove that he existed or that he was wreaking havoc on the timeline.

It was at that moment that the blue curtain of light began to clear, to draw back. Its seam split and it drew up at the corners, inching slowly up and away to the sides. Blaise squinted – the first thing she saw was red. She blinked hard. The curtain widened and she realized with a shock what she was seeing. It was the bottom edges of a cloak – a dark, red cloak.

Impulsively, she tried to lift her wand arm. Nothing happened. She could feel her wand arm, but it was as though it was caught under a leaden pressure and it wouldn't budge. She clenched her teeth and pushed against the opposing force. The curtain drew further back and as it did, inch by inch, her arm came more fully under her power.

_Why is this taking so long?_ she wondered frantically, tugging at her arm. All she needed was to have her wand pointed at Red Robes' legs – _anything_ to keep him from leaving the room. The curtain crawled back and slowly, haltingly, her arm rose upward. It was trembling against whatever the barrier was that was holding it, but it was almost pointed at Red Robes' feet.

It was then that sound began to filter back in. It trembled and flickered – it was like listening to a fireplace in which the fire was going out (as even magical fireplaces were wont to do when it was raining hard). But it was something and Blaise, with her excellent hearing, was able to pick out words, even as the curtain of blue light continued to draw back and her wand continued to rise.

" _. . . killed the . . . "_

" _. . . anyone else around this miserable . . . "_

Blaise struggled to connect the phrases to people and events that she remembered, but the curtain of blue was still receding and sound was still wobbling into her ears as though caked in static.

" _. . . not spent time with some of the Slytherins . . . "_

Ginny – that had been Ginny! The voice was just recognizable and Blaise remembered the redhead's words from both of the other times she had heard the conversation. She couldn't remember which portion of the conversation it had come from, however, or how soon afterward Harry had activated the Time-Turner.

The veil of blue receded still further. Blaise's wand was two inches from the hem of Red Robes' cloak. The curtain was beginning to fade. It's thick, clear blue was now an opaque fog and hazy images began to form. Blaise squinted hard, continuing to lift her wand as quickly as movement was allowed her arm.

"_Potter, give it to me!"_

Red Robes was indeed directly in front of Blaise, red cloak easily recognizable through the blue mist. Blaise strained, gritting her teeth and watched her wand arm inch toward Red Robes' feet.

"_Too late." _

Her wand was level. The ground suddenly appeared under her feet.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" Blaise shouted. Only it didn't quite come out. It was as though her jaw was asleep and the words she spoke sounded more like, "Pedifis Dodali." She hoped that the intent behind them had reached her wand.

Something clearly did, because a jet of glittering magic shot out of the end and hit the spot on Red Robes' robe that she guessed was covering the backs of his boots.

At that precise moment, the curtain of blue haze very abruptly dissipated. Blaise, taken completely by surprise, tumbled forward as the force of her push against the power of the no-longer existent blue haze sent her toppling forward.

She was then able to see how her body-binding charm had affected her target. She caught a glimpse of Red Robes back – he was tangled in his cloak on the floor – before she was thrown forward over him with the force of her wand arm and the spell she had just performed. Unable to catch herself, she shrieked and went sprawling, her wand flying from her hand with the force of her impact against the stone.

The next second there was an ear-splitting crack and the room exploded in a thick, white steam. Blaise twisted onto her back, dimly aware that her all sound seemed to have drained from the room. She blinked desperately through the fog, trying to see Red Robes. But the thick fog surrounding her made seeing her own hand a near impossibility. She groped desperately behind her, trying to locate her fallen wand. She had to stop Red Robes before he could get to his Time-Turner!

Her fingers brushed a long, cool piece of stone and she scrabbled desperately at it. She twisted around and pointed her Caduceus into the fog in front of her, figuring that Red Robes wouldn't be able to move around much, either. She kicked her leg, but couldn't feel him. He must have been just outside her reach.

_No choice_, she thought desperately, raising her wand. She would have to risk it – she only hoped the others weren't in the way.

"_Stupify! Expelliamus! Stupify!_"

Her lips pronounced the spells, but she heard nothing. It was as though her voice wasn't working and she wondered if she had inhaled too much of the smoky substance. Her throat didn't feel dry or sore, but she was sure she had heard nothing come out of her mouth.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" she tried again, blinking at the smoke, which was already beginning to clear. She still couldn't see anything further than two or three feet away and she didn't appear to have voiced the spell allowed.

_Too late_, she thought dimly, slumping backward. Red Robes had now had at least thirty seconds – more than enough time to fish out his Time-Turner and disappear back into time somewhere –

Out of nowhere something heavy fell upon Blaise. Momentarily too terrified to attempt to scream she twisted away, scrabbling frantically at the floor. The body, for that was quite clearly what it was, moved with her. Blaise's voice returned and she opened her mouth. Nothing came out, just as before. She wanted to cry. It was terrifying. She tried to move again, but couldn't. She was pinned to the floor by the body across hers, which was much bigger and weightier than she was.

To her surprise, her assailant stilled when she did. A hand traced its unsteady way up her back, feeling her tousled hair as it went. It paused against the side of her face and suddenly Blaise recognized the hand. The calluses, the long fingers –

"Harry," her inactive voice breathed. Without thinking, she twisted beneath him so that she was on her back and reached up to twist her arms around his neck.

Clearly he had realized who she was as well, because he pulled her gently up and enfolded her tightly into his arms. She was too relieved to do anything but cling back for a moment.

At length, Harry pulled back. He gave her a quick once-over, probably checking for damage. Blaise did the same. By now the smoke had cleared enough for her to see several feet in front of her, and she took a moment to look behind Harry. Neither Ginny, Draco, nor Red Robes were visible yet, but the smoke was rolling back, allowing for increasing visibility in all directions.

Blaise felt a squeeze on her side and realized that Harry was trying to get her attention. His mouth was opening and closing as though in speech. In fact, it looked as though he were shouting. She shook her head at him and he tried again, rubbing his throat with his free hand as though it hurt.

It was then that Blaise realized that the problem wasn't their voices, but their ears. In the tremendous noise of the earlier explosion – at least, she assumed it had been an explosion – she must have been temporarily deafened. Indeed, as she listened more closely, she realized that she couldn't hear anything else, either. Not even white noise was discernable passed her plugged eardrums.

She quickly reached out and covered Harry's mouth to stop him screaming himself hoarse and then, her hand still over his mouth, she indicated his ears and nodded, hoping he would get the message. His brows furrowed in confusion for a moment and then he snapped his fingers and nodded.

_Find Draco and Ginny_, she mouthed at him.

He nodded, although his expression drooped. Yes, they would probably be able to find Ginny and Draco, but Red Robes was sure to have escaped by now. He had certainly had ample time and warning enough that he was under attack.

They had really screwed up, Blaise knew. And this had been their last chance.

Carefully, holding hands and sticking close together, Blaise and Harry began to navigate around the room. The fog was continuing to clear as their visibility became rapidly better. Blaise turned her head from side to side, hoping for some sign that either her hearing or visibility were improving. Nothing indicated that they were. Although visibility was growing slowly better, her ears were still completely unresponsive to sound of any sort.

It was a tight pressure on her hand that alerted her to Harry's discovery of Ginny. The redhead was climbing ponderously to her feet, shaking her head and clearly not hearing their approach. Harry reached out to touch her shoulder, but Blaise knew that a frightened Ginny might be dangerous and surprising her from behind might be harmful to one or both of them. Instead, she tugged Harry around to the side so that Ginny could see their approach.

She did and jumped a little, but didn't go for her wand. Her shoulders sagged in apparent relief and she indicated her own ears.

_Great_, Blaise thought sourly. _Deaf, nearly blind, and Draco's still missing._

Ginny reached out and linked her arm through Harry's, pulling them deeper into the room, probably to the spot where she had last seen Draco.

It didn't take long to find him and when they did, Blaise felt her chest tighten. He was on his face and not moving.

Ginny's mouth opened in a silent exclamation of horror and she fell to her knees beside him, struggling to turn him over onto his back. She pressed her fingers to his chest and then his pulse, clearly checking that he was still alive. Blaise didn't see a wound, but she also hadn't seen if Red Robes had gotten off a Killing Curse before the explosion.

Ginny's expression a moment later confirmed that Draco was indeed still alive, although out cold. Clearly, Red Robes had been able to get off a few parting curses before disappearing. And there was no telling the severity of whatever he had used. He was a dark wizard, as far as any of them knew.

A thought suddenly occurred to Blaise. _She_ had fired several badly aimed hexes into the fog. Could it have been one of _her_ curses?

Crossing her fingers on both hands, she stepped forward and pulled Ginny away. Pulling out her wand, she pointed it at Draco.

"_Enervate_!" she cried. Though her voice was still not audible, the spell shot from the end of her wand and hit Draco. For a moment he lay perfectly still. Then he stirred and opened his eyes, wincing slightly as Ginny hurriedly pulled him into a sitting position. He rubbed the back of his head and Blaise could see blood on his fingers. She grimaced – he had probably hit his head on the floor when the spell hit him. She felt a flash of guilt – it could very well have been her curse. After all, Red Robes wasn't likely to bother with a simple "_Stupify_!", was he?

Ginny helped Draco to his feet and he leaned on her for support, swaying unsteadily for a moment. His lips moved and Blaise was sure he was cursing the air blue. She tried not to smile.

Harry motioned for them to follow him and the four teens moved together toward where Blaise guessed the stairs were. The smoke had cleared enough that it seemed more a heavy fog than a wall of gray. She could make out the wall toward which they were moving and guessed that it was indeed the one with the door set into it that led down the stairs from the tower.

They reached the door without incident, but Harry came to a halt before it. Blaise glanced sideways at him and saw him toying with the front of his Quidditch robes. A moment later, he withdrew a long, gold chain. Blaise stared, knowing what it was and wondering how she had forgotten he had it. A moment later, Ginny and Draco poked their heads over Blaise's shoulder, probably to see why Harry had stopped. Ginny's eyes went wide when she caught sight of the Time-Turner, while Draco's narrowed.

It was, Blaise realized as they stood clustered together by the door, a pivotal moment. With a strange feeling of déjà vu, she looked up into Harry's down-turned face. His expression was painfully easy to read. He saw a final chance – a chance to try again. What if they went forward in time again, got each other killed and snapped back? Surely they would be able to catch Red Robes if given a second chance . . .

For one wild moment, Blaise wanted to snatch the Time-Turner and turn it herself. What if they could go back in time – back to Monday night – and intercept Red Robes? What if they could stop him killing Hayden and Tristan? They were in real-time now – their powers would work against him . . .

Blaise blinked as another image rose in her mind. She was entering the Astronomy Tower to see Harry, Draco, and Ginny glowering at each other and arguing loudly. She could see Draco's cold grays slanted at Ginny and Ginny's browns narrowed as they passed back and forth between the blonde and Harry.

Harry's sharp green eyes were stubbornly flashing at Draco, but Blaise remembered the hope in them, too – the hope that he could put something right.

Ultimately, he hadn't. He hadn't changed a damned thing. None of them had. Were they really going to make that mistake again?

Before she realized what she was doing, Blaise had her hand clasped around Harry's, blocking the Time-Turner from view. He blinked and looked sideways at her. She shook her head, trying desperately to make him understand. He stared at her for a long moment without moving. Then abruptly his shoulders sagged and he let the weight of the Time-Turner fall from his hand and gripped her hand tightly instead. Blaise returned the squeeze firmly, feeling immeasurably relieved. She glared up at him in fierce pride.

Behind them, Ginny stirred. She rested her hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed. So, to Blaise's surprise, did Draco. When Harry turned to look at him in surprise, the blonde smirked slightly and gave him a nod. Blaise knew that he agreed with her assessment. It was time to let it go.

It was as she turned to look at Draco more fully that something behind him caught her eye. At first she was sure she imagined it, but a closer look through the increasingly sheer smoke told her she hadn't. It was an object on the floor toward the middle of the room.

She gasped. It couldn't be. It's _couldn't_!

Her gaping mouth alerted the others, who gave her questioning looks. Blaise pointed, knowing that she couldn't have talked if they _had_ been able to hear her. They turned to look and she could see sharp breaths of astonishment on each of their lips as they regarded the bundle of robes that were now blindingly obvious and familiar.

Red Robes lay sprawled, face down, on the floor of the Astronomy Tower.

Blaise stared – and stared. It wasn't possible – it simply wasn't possible.

Harry was the first to move. He pushed passed Blaise and Draco and in three quick strides was beside Red Robes. He reached for the sleeve of Red Robes' cloak and pulled it up, clearly checking for a pulse. His fingers paused on the material – then he reached up as though to feel Red Robes' arm.

Blaise hurried over to join him, wondering what in Merlin's name he was doing. When she reached him and dropped to her knees beside him, she was able to see. Red Robes was lying awkwardly, his hands raised slightly off the floor and his legs bent oddly out behind him.

Draco and Ginny suddenly appeared on either side of Blaise, both staring down at Red Robes and still looking astonished. Harry's hand trailed back down Red Robes' arm and rested at last on the pulse. He held the wrist for a moment and Blaise noticed that it was slightly emaciated, as though its owner had not used it in a long time. Harry released Red Robes' hand and glanced at the others, turning his hand so that it was palm down and then flipping up so that it was palm up.

They all got the message. Draco moved the Red Robes' other side and Harry, Blaise, and Ginny slid their hands under him and pushed him over. Blaise noticed the instant that she touched him how unnaturally stiff his body was. Past rigid, it was almost stone-like and neither muscle nor skin reacted to her touch.

With Draco pulling from the other side, they managed to flip Red Robes onto his back.

Blaise hissed silently, yanking her hands away from Red Robes and falling backward in her haste to back up as two brilliantly dark blue – almost purple – eyes met her own.

Abruptly, a wind, generated from some unknown source, swept the remaining smoke from the room. Blaise blinked, staring dazedly around.

"Oh, no," Ginny muttered from Blaise's left. Blaise glanced down at the redhead, surprised by the sound suddenly assailing her eardrums. Ginny was staring toward the doorway to the Astronomy Tower with an arrested look – a deer in the Knight Bus' headlights. Blaise turned to look as well.

Albus Dumbledore stared back at her. There was no twinkle in his eye, no almost-smile hidden in his ridiculous beard. His eyes met hers and then moved on, probably taking in Draco, Harry, and Ginny.

His eyes froze on Red Robes.

"So," he said softly, his eyes hardening on the gaze that had repulsed Blaise moments ago.

"Si – sir," Harry began. He seemed to be having difficulty finding his voice.

"The four of you will please come with me," the headmaster said briskly. He withdrew his wand and pointed it at Red Robes. "_Mobilicorpus_," he said quietly. Red Robes' stiff form leapt into the air and floated along after Dumbledore as he turned and strode from the tower.

"Come on," Ginny said, breaking the stunned silence. She got to her feet, pulling Draco with her. He swayed, throwing an unsteady arm around her shoulders for support and the two of them moved slowly to the door.

Blaise got to her feet and made to follow, before suddenly realizing that Harry wasn't moving. She turned to look more fully at him. He sat on the floor, staring hollowly through the doorway.

"Come on, Potter," Blaise said gruffly, offering him a hand up. His head turned slowly back to her and he stared bleakly at her through his untidy fringe.

"I've really done it this time, Blaise," he murmured at last, looking so wretched that Blaise's chest tightened.

"What're you talking about?" she demanded rather roughly, gripping his hand and hauling him to his feet.

"I blew it," was all he said, letting her pull him from the room and down the spiral staircase after the others.

"What're you on about?" she asked, quickening her step. "We just caught a criminal. If anything, we're going to get rewarded."

"I doubt it," Harry said, and to Blaise's surprise, he sounded almost bitter. "He warned me, you know. When Malfoy and I first brought Tristy and Hayden to his office –" he paused and swallowed hard, before clearing his throat stubbornly and continuing. "He reminded me that the consequences of any more rule-breaking on my part would be – well, pretty bad for me."

"What – what do you think he'll do?" Blaise asked hesitantly. "I mean, it's not like he's going to lock you in the dungeons or anything."

"He told me last time that any more serious rule-breaking would get me expelled," Harry bit out harshly, dropping her hand. "And did I listen? _Oh_, no! I figured, hell, I'm Harry Potter, I can do whatever the fuck I want!"

"What's this? Am I hallucinating, Gin, or is Golden Boy swearing?" came Draco's voice from several paces ahead of them.

"Not now, Draco," Blaise said warningly, her mind working furiously for a subject change. "So – Red Robes. How about those eyes?"

It worked about as well as she expected. Some of the self-loathing in Harry's expression flickered out and was replaced by curiosity.

"Did you see any of the rest of the face?" he asked.

"No – the eyes threw me and I didn't notice," she answered. "I don't suppose you did?"

"Naw – the spell froze his hood almost completely around his face. Wonder what hit him."

"Before that – that smoke thing and the shock – right after we came back to real-time, I was able to hit his feet with a body-bind hex," she said. "I think the force of the transition to real-time and me leaning so hard into the blue curtain thing knocked me forward, because I tripped. I didn't see what happened after that."

"I saw part of it," Harry told her. "Right after you tripped, he grabbed something from his pocket and threw it down. It looked to me like a smoke bomb, but the sound wave that came with it . . . couldn't have landed more than two feet from you, anyway."

"I was completely deaf until Dumbledore drew the smoke from the room . . . at least, I _think_ it was Dumbledore," she said.

"I thought it was the shock of the grenade going off that deafened us, but I think the silence was tied to the smoke," Harry mused. Blaise was relieved to see that his brooding expression had completely left his face and now he had his detective face on. "It was like sound suddenly cut back in when the smoke dissipated and I saw it moving in Dumbledore's direction before it went completely."

Blaise thought about this. It made sense – Red Robes through the grenade and then jumped to another time. The smoke and the silence would, in theory, give him all the time he needed to activate the Time-Turner. And since it was the smoke that caused the deafening effect, Red Robes had only to leave the area into which he had through the grenade to escape the effects of it. His adversaries, however, would never know how he had escaped or where he had gone.

"Brilliant," Draco muttered from up ahead. His pace had become slightly more unsteady, Blaise thought. She wondered if she ought to ask Dumbledore to send him to the hospital wing, but the old man was far ahead by now and she didn't fancy him the sort of man who appreciated being shouted at down corridors.

"Doesn't look so good, does he?" Harry murmured from beside her, indicating Draco.

"Snuff it, Potter – I'm perfectly all right!" Draco snapped, stumbling slightly. Ginny, unprepared for the shift in weight and certainly not on a similar scale as Draco, stumbled as well. Reflex only sent Harry diving forward to catch Draco before he fell on Ginny, who went sprawling as it was.

"Stubborn bastard," Harry muttered, taking Draco's arm and pulling it around his shoulders.

"Don't need _your_ help," Draco grumbled, although he made no move away.

"Sure you don't," Harry said, taking far more of his weight than Ginny had been able to and starting off down the corridor again.

"Barking, both of them," Ginny mumbled as she dropped back to walk with Blaise.

"You say that like it's something I couldn't have seen with my eyes closed," Blaise rejoined, dropping her voice slightly. She followed Harry with her eyes, wondering if part of his readiness to help Draco had anything to do with his obvious need to distract himself from their current fix. Certainly their continuous banter would do that.

"Harry thinks he's going to be expelled," Blaise blurted out, her voice still low.

Ginny gasped.

"_What_?" she breathed after a moment's shocked silence. "Why does he think that?"

"Seems like Dumbledore gave him a warning about 'any more serious ruling-breaking' at some point," Blaise told her, trying to keep her voice neutral. She could feel resentment of the old man well in her chest. Harry was just doing what he thought was right. He might have screwed up, but so what? They had Red Robes. There was no way Dumbledore could possibly . . .

"Rubbish," Ginny said, though to Blaise's ears the assurance sounded a bit forced. "Harry and Ron have been breaking rules since they came here. If they hadn't, terrible things might have happened. You-Know-Who might have got the Philosopher's Stone, I might be dead –"

"Excuse me – what?" Blaise demanded, her head whipping round to stare at the redhead.

But at that moment, they drew level with the gargoyle statue that guarded Dumbledore's office. It was already sliding aside – Dumbledore must have given the password already. Blaise saw Harry, who was following Dumbledore and the immobile floating body of Red Robes through the opening, bunch his shoulders, as though preparing all possible arguments in their favor in his head.

_And he's probably not thinking about himself – he's probably trying to figure out how to excuse Draco and Ginny and me instead_, she thought, letting the bitterness in her throat consume her for a moment as she mounted the steps behind the boys. _Bloody hero_.

When they reached Dumbledore's office, the old man snapped his fingers and an army cot appeared beside the four chairs that sat opposite his desk. He maneuvered Red Robes onto the cot, before silently motioning the others to take seats. Harry followed, lowering Draco into a chair before slumping into one himself. The blonde was seated nearest Red Robes and Blaise noticed that his wand had appeared loosely in his hand.

Blaise felt the coolness of her own Caduceus against her thigh, held there by the fastening of her shin guard. She seated herself in the last chair beside Ginny, crossing her right leg over her left and draping her hand casually across her knee. Beside her, Ginny was toying with her cuff.

Blaise smiled grimly to herself. No way in hell would Red Robes leave that room without an armed escort and a warrant to rot in Azkaban. Not after what they had been through.

Dumbledore waited until they were seated before sitting down behind his desk. His eyes behind his half-moon spectacles were as serious as Blaise had ever seen them.

"I confess," he said at last, "that I'm not sure where to begin."

"It was all my fault, Professor," Harry jumped in immediately.

Blaise let out a loud, rude groan, and Draco snorted.

"What?" Harry snapped, glaring back and forth between them.

"Cut the heroic crap, Potter," Draco advised with a faint sneer. "We all know you couldn't have forced the three of us to go with you."

"_I_ was going to say that," Blaise said.

"Nice," Harry muttered, his expression so close to sulky that Ginny cracked a crooked smile.

"While I'm delighted that we've established blame so early on in our discussion," Dumbledore said, and Blaise noticed that his expression had relaxed ever so slightly, "I can assure you that at present, I haven't the smallest interest in how many laws you four have broken this evening."

His eyes, and theirs, turned to regard the motionless form of Red Robes.

"Am I right in thinking that one of you hit him with a Full-Body Bind?" Dumbledore asked after a moment's heavy silence.

"I think it was me, sir," Blaise put in. "When that fog came, I couldn't see and I just started firing hexes." She bit her lips and glanced at Draco, who was now glowering at her. Clearly, he realized the implications of her admission.

"One day, when you're least expecting it, I'm going to poke you in the eye," he grouched, rubbing at the back of his head.

"Are you feeling well, Mr. Malfoy, or should I have Miss Weasley escort you to the hospital?" Dumbledore asked. His expression was serious enough, but his eyes had a trace of sparkle in them.

"I'm fine," Draco retorted.

"For now," Ginny murmured, casting an anxious look at him.

"Don't fuss, Weasley," Draco said imperiously, turning his attention back to Dumbledore. "So – you going to expel us now or do we get to listen to you interrogate Red Robes?"

"I would not make so light of your conduct if I were you, Mr. Malfoy," the headmaster admonished, his eyes against deadly serious. "I have the impression that none of you are entirely aware of how dangerous or costly your actions might have been. You have been extremely fortunate in many respects, for which, believe it or not, I am deeply grateful."

Blaise glanced down the line and saw Harry's head droop. She wished she were nearer to him – whether to wrap her arms comfortingly around him or give his solar plexus a pounding for blaming himself for everything she didn't know.

"Now," the head master went on, resting his chin on his steepled fingers and gazing levelly at each in turn. "I believe your success in capturing this criminal is worth some reward and I believe the best time to give it to you is now."

The headmaster rose from his desk and moved to stand before Red Robes. He waved his hand and Red Robes slumped limply into the cot. Dumbledore moved quickly to him.

"Ginevra, Blaise – if you would help me recover the Time-Turner and any other weapons this person is carrying on him."

Blaise and Ginny exchanged surprised glances.

"Check pockets and sleeves," Dumbledore said briskly, kneeling beside Red Robes. "There should be no threat now, but it is best to be safe and it will save the Aurors a great deal of bother."

"How – how much do you know about him, sir?" Ginny asked as she and Blaise began rummaging Red Robes' pockets.

"All in good time, Miss Weasley," he said, gently removing a Time-Turner chain from around Red Robes' neck. It took him a moment to pry Red Robes' hand, which had been clamped around it in obvious preparation for flight, away from it. "I believe that part of this story is for our guest to reveal."

"But, sir," Draco said, turning slowly in his chair and not seeming to care in the least that the last time he had spoken he had been told off. "How did you know we were in the Astronomy Tower at all? I mean, surely you weren't thinking, 'Oh, I'm sure I'll find Malfoy wherever Potter is and Potter always goes up to the Astronomy Tower after Quidditch matches.'"

"Quite right, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, continuing to search Red Robes for additional weapons. Smoke grenades might not be the worst things he had on him, Blaise realized. They knew he was not averse to murder, after all. She made sure to check each pocket thoroughly. It was odd how thick Red Robes' clothing was. Even gender was difficult to gage through the thick layers.

"Well?" Draco demanded, when Dumbledore failed to elaborate any further.

"Let me put it to you this way, Mr. Malfoy," he said coolly, placing a long, thin rope with nothing attached to it carefully on his desk. "In addition to rewarding you in some degree for bringing this person in, I very much hope you will learn something tonight. I will not pretend to be pleased with what the four of you have done. Although I do not doubt your good intentions –"

"The road to hell is paved with them," Harry intoned dully. He didn't seem inclined to ask Dumbledore anything, or indeed look at him, which was extremely odd. Harry Potter had to be the most intrinsically curious person Blaise knew.

"In due part," Dumbledore agreed heavily. His hand paused over Red Robes' right arm and a moment later his long, wrinkled fingers withdrew a wand.

"Red Robes' Caduceus," Blaise said, staring at it in fascination. After all, it looked identical to hers. She supposed most Caducei were fairly similar, but Red Robes' looked to be a similar color and length as hers.

Dumbledore regarded it as well for a moment, before placing it on his desk beside the Time-Turner and continuing his investigation.

Five minutes later, they had recovered a couple of additional bizarre objects – probably weapons, Blaise thought. Red Robes' seemed the sort of person to be prepared in most contingencies. It struck her with equal parts embarrassment and anger that it had been sheer dumb luck that had caught Red Robes tonight, not any particular skill. Had he had milliseconds longer, he would have escaped.

At last, Dumbledore seemed satisfied that they had thoroughly disarmed Red Robes, he got to his feet. For a long moment, he was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was resigned.

"I suppose, before you hear your assailant's testimony, it might do for me to tell you some of what I know about this incident. Or perhaps, it might do as well for you to relate your adventures to me that I might fit some of the pieces together and get a clearer picture of what has happened. Once we have explored our own knowledge of events, we can use this person to fill in the missing links."

He returned to the seat behind his desk and waited expectantly, not looking at any of them for too long and not urging them on. Blaise glanced around at her companions. Ginny and Draco looked as lost as she felt – how to explain the events that for them had lasted a couple of weeks in the space of several minutes!

"It's like this, sir." Clearly, Harry was about to try. Blaise looked closely at his face and saw the undisguised guilt in his eyes, accompanied by a driving need to make things as right as it was within his power to make them.

"I'm listening, Harry," Dumbledore said, when Harry paused uncertainly a moment later. Blaise was pretty sure that he was trying to figure out a way to relieve herself, Ginny, and Draco of as much of the blame as possible. Of course, there was no true way to do it. Harry knew it. Dumbledore knew it.

Blaise knew it and she said so.

"Get it out, Harry," she advised. "We're as responsible as you – you're not sentencing us any more harshly by telling the truth."

Harry glared defiantly at her for a moment, clearly trying to contradict this. He couldn't. His shoulders slumped slightly.

"It's like this, sir," he repeated. "Last Monday night was when it all started. After Draco and I brought you – brought you the bodies." He swallowed, then looked Dumbledore straight in the eye. "You know I can't let things like that go. I'm sure you knew it then."

"I did," the headmaster sighed. "I did. I was hoping to have answers for you before you did anything rash."

Harry looked slightly surprised by this direct answer.

"Then why not lock him up, sir?" Draco wanted to know. "If you knew he'd do something – "

"Innocent until proven guilty," Dumbledore said. "I had my suspicions only. I had hoped Harry's natural degree of common sense would do what I could not to restrain him."

Harry looked so utterly miserable that Blaise wanted to jump across the desk at Dumbledore. She settled with a harsh look.

"Since you apparently knew something about this already, you might have told him _something_," she snapped.

"Blaise," Harry said warningly, raising a hand to silence her. "He's right – we all know it. Let's move on."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with an approving nod at his chastised student. "Go on, Harry."

"So I began devising a plan to go forward in time to warn Hayden and Tristan," he said softly, after another short hesitation. "I snuck into McGonagall's study and stole her Time-Turner."

"Indeed – an oversight on my part," Dumbledore said, with a rueful smile.

"Sir?" Harry said in surprise.

"I told you I suspected some action on your part," the old man said. "I made several contingency plans in hopes of preventing you doing exactly what you managed to do. I had forgotten that your connection to Miss Granger meant that you would have known Minerva had a Time-Turner and so, when I advised her to store it more carefully, it did not cross my mind that you might try for it first."

"What _were_ you expecting me to do, sir?" Harry asked, looking suddenly curious.

"Quite honestly, I expected you to do your research and discover the location of another Time-Turner," Dumbledore said. "I assumed that you would think Minerva's too obvious a place to start and would go elsewhere to search for one." He sighed. "I had hoped that you would consult with Miss Granger first, however."

"But, sir," Ginny broke in. "Everyone who knows anything about Time-Turners knows how carefully protected they are at the Ministry. Surely you didn't expect Harry to break in and try to steal one!"

The expression on Dumbledore's face made it quite clear that that was exactly what he had thought.

"I never said I suspected you of _successfully_ stealing a Time-Turner," he told Harry bluntly. "I expected you to _try_. I was prepared to stop you getting into serious legal trouble with the Ministry. The thought of you successfully time traveling never entered my head."

From the look on Harry's face, Blaise was fairly sure that the knowledge that his idol could miss something so simple, particularly when it was right before his eyes, was a bit of a nasty shock.

"Now, Harry, if you would continue your story," Dumbledore said, waving his hand encouragingly. "Go on – I will not interrupt so frequently."

"Okay," Harry said, still looking slightly shaken. "Well, so I stole the Time-Turner and planned my escape after the Quidditch match on – well, tonight, technically." He looked a bit sheepish. "I knew Malfoy was watching me – I really thought I was clever to have outfoxed him."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Draco said smugly.

Harry grinned rather ruefully.

"So when the time came for the match, I figured that Draco would be too wrapped up with his teammates to notice me leave. I hadn't counted on him being so . . . persistent."

"My, you're overflowing with praise tonight, Potter," Draco said with a smirk. "I'm flattered."

"Don't be so full of yourself," Blaise said sharply. "You were so busy sniffing out Harry that you didn't notice me trailing along behind you."

Ginny giggled when Draco scowled at her.

"And so that is how the four of you ended up in the Astronomy Tower together," Dumbledore prompted Harry.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Ginny followed me, Malfoy followed Ginny, and Blaise followed Malfoy. And it was Blaise who was last into the tower. She was spying on the three of us outside and then saw Red Robes and came in to warn us that something weird was up."

"And instead of hiding or getting the hell out of the tower, we stood around arguing until Red Robes finally came up and found us," Ginny said, mild self-reproach in her voice. She looked pleadingly at Dumbledore. "Sir, Harry saved our lives. Red Robes came in with his wand drawn and demanded that we give him the Time-Turner. If Harry hadn't gotten us out when he did . . . "

"Although several minutes into the past, rather than several _decades_ into the future might not have been a lot to ask," Draco mumbled. Ginny kicked his ankle.

"I was wondering about that, sir," Blaise said, giving Draco a withering look. His sarcasm was thoroughly counterproductive at this point. "How _did_ we go into the future? I mean, the few references to Time-Turners in our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes only talk about the Time-Turner transporting a person _back_."

"That is because information on Time-Turners, like the things themselves, are heavily restricted," Dumbledore told her. "Their usage is rare and with good reason. Those who do not use them strictly within Ministry guidelines can cause serious temporal damage. It is _vital_ that those using Time-Turners know _everything_ about their interaction with the timeline and, more importantly, about the function of time as we understand it." He sighed for the umpteenth time. "This is why I was hoping you would consult with Miss Granger, Harry. Before given a Time-Turner, Professor McGonagall took her very carefully over the uses of the Time-Turner and exact functions of the past and future. I was hoping Hermione would be able to explain it to you so that you could understand how ineffectual any action on your part might be."

"I didn't say anything to Ron or Hermione because I didn't want them being expelled with me," Harry said, looking miserable again.

"A noble impulse," Dumbledore said heavily. "I do apologize for interrupting you – please continue."

"So, Red Robes threatened us and I knew our only sure way out was the Time-Turner," Harry went on, with a deep breath. "I figured I would take us into the future, where we could warn Hayden and Tristy and then be off." He winced. "Things didn't work out quite the way I planned." He paused. "Will I be polluting the timeline any worse by telling you what exactly we did in the future, sir?"

"No, Harry, you will not," the headmaster assured him. "Go on."

So Harry did. As he told of their discovery by Snape, their first meeting with Hayden and Dorian, and later, with their older selves and Tristy, Blaise felt the vivid memories rise in her mind's eye. She remembered their drive to Red's Park – how lonely she had been and how resentful that in that strange and alien place, Harry and Ginny and Draco had made use of each other for company, even if Draco's methods created conflict rather than companionship. As in the future, she had been an outsider.

As Harry described their stay at Red's Park, their first sighting of Red Robes in the Quidditch stadium, and their subsequent abandonment of the Malfoy estate, Blaise thought about her slow transition from adversary to companion. There had been the tenuous bond between herself and Tristy when Blaise had jumped onto the troll to save Tristy's life. The first connection with Harry had sprouted soon afterward when he had flown recklessly into the fray and scooped her onto his broomstick to carry her to safely.

As Harry described their battle with the dragons in the midlands and their final arrival in London, Blaise remembered with a glow his first reassuring words, their first kiss, and his protective, supportive presence around her from that moment onward.

At the end of all that, would she ever regret following Draco to the Astronomy Tower? Even if she were expelled from Hogwarts tonight, would she wish away those two, technically non-existent weeks she had spent in her supposed future?

Harry went on, telling of their journey to Kendal Longbottom's flat, their discovery there, and their escape to Diagon Alley and off through the Muggle Underground to the train and bus that had taken them to Bath. And then their night in Bath and their long ride to Glastonbury. And finally, their day in Glastonbury and their discovery of the entrance to Avalon.

"Where we were somehow followed in by Red Robes," Harry said, his voice strong and sure as he related the events without interruption. "Neville said something about him being _let_ in. As though they wanted him there."

"Which makes sense, actually," Blaise broke in, a thought suddenly occurring to her. "Remember when we were talking about it during the walk up to the tower? We were speculating about how odd it was that Red Robes had only been following us around when it would have been fairly easy for him to attack us. If the Dumbledore in the future and myself and Longbottom –"

"And Cedric," Ginny added hesitantly.

"Right. If they knew we were coming, as they said they did, and they knew Red Robes was following us –"

"_And_ they were using Cedric to guide us in the right direction," Harry put in.

"Then it stands to reason that Dumbledore was using us as bait," Draco finished darkly. "Using _us_ to lure Red Robes to Avalon."

"To catch him, though?" Ginny inquired doubtfully.

"Why not?" Harry said. "Dumbledore, Blaise, and Neville were clearly in hiding. Maybe they were originally hiding from Red Robes?"

"That's a bit of a stretch, Potter," Draco said doubtfully. "We don't know a whole lot about Avalon."

"But we _do_ know that Red Robes wanted that forty-year-old Blaise to be ransom for Tristan's release," Harry insisted.

"What is it he wanted you for?" Draco asked in mild frustration, glaring at Blaise.

"If Harry will please continue his story, I believe your questions can be answered," Dumbledore broke in calmly.

Harry finished at length, ending with his death and letting the others piece in the parts that he had missed briefly afterward. He told of their second attempt to stop Red Robes killing Hayden and Tristan and their entrapment within the timeless bubble. He ended with their release and their final adventure in the Astronomy Tower.

"And then you found us, sir," he said, nodding to Dumbledore

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, thoughtfully.

"Now do we get our answers?" Draco demanded loudly, then winced and rubbed his head.

"Are you quite sure you do not wish Madam Pomfrey to see to your injuries first, Mr. Malfoy?" the headmaster inquired. Blaise saw a bit of twinkle reenter his eyes for a moment.

Draco abandoned all pretense and glowered at the headmaster.

"Very well, then," Dumbledore said. "It is time for you to here another side of this tale – _my_ side."

He stared off into space for a moment, and then began to speak.

"You may be interested to know that I had prior knowledge of the events of last Monday evening _before_ they occurred," he told them quietly. He held up a hand when the four of them opened their mouths indignantly. "Not _all_, you understand, but just enough. You see, you four are not the only ones who have been messing about with time of late. I myself have had a hand in it."

"_You_, sir?" Harry said, clearly dumbstruck.

"Yes," said the headmaster, looking troubled. "Although I had little control over it. You see, a few hours before your arrivals in my office – " he nodded to Harry and Draco – "I had another caller." He paused. "It was, in fact, myself."

"Si-sir?" Ginny said, blinking incredulously at him.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.

"Surprising, yes," he said. "It was a twenty-three-year distant self of mine, come to give me interesting news." He paused. "It was all very cryptic, of course. He told me very little before ending his life."

Ginny gasped and Blaise saw Harry's mouth fall open.

"Do not trouble yourselves," the headmaster said. "It was necessary. It would be impossible for the two of us to coexist in the same time. The consequences would be too serious. Suffice it to say that he came baring important information for me. According to him, a series of events had transpired, which I might be able to prevent. Apparently, he was in the process of arranging permanent protection for one Blaise Zabini at a haven called Avalon when he received a most peculiar owl. The owl informed him that a younger version of Miss Zabini, accompanied by younger copies of Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, and Harry Potter – by whom the owl was penned – were currently residing in Red's Park. In the owl, you, Harry, related all of the transpiring events of this past week to my elder self with warnings that a temporal terrorist was on the loose."

Dumbledore paused, pulling off his glasses, polishing them, and replacing them on his nose.

"As it happened, part of the reason that arrangements were being made for this particular Zabini was that she had certain – important qualities about herself that might make her extremely valuable. Herself, or her family."

Blaise felt a small flutter of relief. She had suspected, since the ransom demand had been made, that her elder self had left her family to protect them. Now, here at last, was the proof.

"When I – my future self – received Harry's letter, I was surprised. However, knowing Harry as I did, I suspected that no action on my part might spur him to take action on his own. I discussed the matter with Blaise, whose first concern was, of course, the safety of her family. She thought it might be best to draw out a potential enemy such as Harry had described by luring him to Avalon and entrapping him within the protective wards. Most time travel is not possible there – only automatically triggered responses, such as returning to the time from whence you originally left when killed while exploring the future."

The headmaster paused again, sighed.

"Dumbledore of the future told me that his plan worked famously. Harry soon discovered my last known whereabouts, namely Avalon, and Cedric Potter, who had discovered his mother's hiding place several years back, conveniently provided his tracking experience.

"When the group including Harry and his friends, as well as Tristan Potter, Cedric, Hayden Malfoy, and Dorian Weasley, first made their escape, the elder Malfoys, Potter, and Weasley were, of course, outraged and set out immediately to track them down. Halfway there, they were intercepted by an owl from myself, explaining the situation in a unique code devised during the war by Harry and Blaise."

"But, sir, they followed us all the way through London – Hayden and Tristan were chased onto the Muggle Underground by an Auror!" Harry exclaimed.

Dumbledore smiled faintly.

"My guess is that neither the Malfoys nor Mr. Potter wanted to risk their children's safety on my assumption that their assailant was merely tailing them and would not harm them. And I know Mr. Potter did not at all trust Cedric's intentions. I imagine they chose to trail you, perhaps even to nudge you in the right direction, until they were sure that you were on the home stretch."

"So our running from them in London," Draco said, a slow, disgusted look dawning on his pale face. "There was no reason at all to fuck around with subtlety – they were just helping us out!"

"Where were they when we ran into the trolls, then?" Blaise broke in. "And the dragons – hell, we were almost roasted."

"I imagine that you reached the cave trolls shortly before Mr. Malfoy realized that you were no longer on the grounds," Dumbledore offered. "Red's Park is large and his security sweeps would have taken time."

"And the dragons?"

"That, I do know," Dumbledore said. "Because your Portkey was tampered with somehow, they lost their trace on you until a while after you had arrived in London."

"So when they surrounded the building – called up threatening Ken and all that – they must have been trying to determine if we had been there," Ginny said slowly, with a look of dawning comprehension that probably mirrored Blaise's own.

"And tracking us so obviously through Diagon Alley – that guy in the Quidditch store, Malfoy – we must have been right about them pulling other trusted Aurors onto the job," Harry put in. "They needed to be sure that all of us were safely in London and on our way to Bath."

"But why let us go there?" Draco demanded. "Why not follow us to Bath or Glastonbury?"

"Who says they didn't?" Harry countered.

"But we would have seen them – in Glastonbury, at least," Draco insisted. "I mean, it's so small."

"They did follow you to Bath, but not beyond," Dumbledore said. "My future self assured them that Cedric was equipped to deliver everyone to Glastonbury, with ample information about accessing Avalon. They knew that you would all be safe within its borders."

"Why would they assume that?" Blaise asked incredulously.

"Now that I am not quite clear on," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "It would appear that your family's blood, Miss Zabini, is linked into the magic of Avalon and thus all those of your blood are protected within it."

"But how does that affect the rest of us?" Ginny asked.

"That I cannot explain," Dumbledore sighed. "My future self did not offer any information."

They all stood in silence a moment, thinking back and trying to understand.

Draco got it first.

"Remember when we had that 'family meeting' thing?" he asked, with exaggerated quotation marks. "Dorian Weasley went babbling on about the blood brothers' bond that he, my son, and Cedric Potter did one summer."

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed. "That would link the Weasleys, Potters, Zabinis, and Malfoys by blood – that covers all of us, doesn't it? That must have been what we – our older selves – meant. So long as each of us has blood from one of those families, we're protected in some measure by Avalon's magic."

"Probably why Cedric agreed to do the blood brother's bond in the first place," Blaise said thoughtfully. The more she thought of it, the more it made sense. "That sort of link could be dangerous – we should have known Cedric would have a reason for doing it. He must have been in contact with his mother – with _me_ – by that summer they did it and figured it wouldn't hurt to extend the protection a bit."

"So, sir," Harry prompted. "Dumbledore's – the _future_ Dumbledore's – plan worked. We led Red Robes to Avalon . . . "

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "Well, we've been over what happened there, which also corresponded to my plan."

"But Red Robes wasn't captured there and we were killed!" Ginny pointed out, confused.

"Exactly!" Dumbledore said. "I imagine you've gathered by now that the only successful way to return to your own time from the future is to be killed. Your essence, if you will, must end in that time in order for it to automatically snap back, as it is naturally inclined to do, to your correct time. I knew that you had a Time-Turner in your possession and knew that you had to be sent home in possession of it. If Red Robes were to have killed you, you still would have snapped back to your own times but Red Robes would have taken your Time-Turner first. There was also the fact that I wished to put you within a suspended time bubble so that you might prepare to catch Red Robes once and for all."

"If Dumbledore – you, sir – lured Red Robes all that way, why didn't _he_ catch him?" Harry asked.

"Probably because he knew that if he killed Red Robes, that was one less loop in the timeline to be sorted out when Red Robes was apprehended at last," Dumbledore said. "It was unclear how many jumps Red Robes made, but it was quite clear that at some time he had entered the future. If he could be returned to a time closer to his own, it might make things a bit less complicated in the end."

Dumbledore paused, staring around at their stunned faces.

"So – this is what your future self told you when he came back," Draco said. "When did he tell you about Tristan and Hayden?"

"He didn't," Dumbledore said. "Or rather, not directly. You see, in Harry's owl Harry had mentioned Red Robes killing Miss Potter and young Mr. Malfoy, but obviously in that timeline it had never occurred."

"_That_ timeline?" Ginny asked, beginning to massage her temples.

"You are beginning to understand the importance of leaving the timeline well alone," Dumbledore said heavily, though his voice was not without some sympathy. "In simplest terms, then – when one goes back in time, there become two versions of them. There is the one that is already existing in that time, doing what it originally did, and there is another, the one that does not belong there, who must not be seen and must follow the events of such a timeline up until their past and present selves meet and coalesce in the present. Suffice it to say, the past already exists – it is a fixed thing that cannot be altered without serious consequences.

"However," he went on heavily, "the future is another matter entirely. As the future has not occurred yet, there are infinite possibilities as to what might happen. What you saw on your journey was a possibility – just one of many – that _might_ happen if present events play out in a certain pattern. However, should that pattern change, another series of events might occur."

The headmaster glanced at all of them for a moment before continuing.

"An example might be the branches of a tree," he said at last. "We start with the trunk, which might be considered the present. But from that trunk spring hundreds of thousands of branches and off those branches spring branches. Each time a choice is made in the present, a new branch grows. But there are always the might-have-beens – the possibility branches, if you will."

"So the Tristan and Hayden we saw Monday night," Draco said slowly, his voice constrained. "They were only – possibilities?"

"I'm afraid that's a tad too simplistic an explanation," Dumbledore said apologetically. "After all, their present is our future. Though from our standpoint they are possibilities, from theirs, they are wholly real and fixed in the timeline."

"So both images we saw – the Tristan and Hayden in the entrance hall and the Tristan and Hayden in the future we visited – both were possibilities – from different branches of the tree?" Harry hazarded, his face screwed up in concentration.

"Yes," Dumbledore breathed, sinking back in his chair. "Do you understand now, Harry?"

"Yes," he answered, with dawning comprehension. "You didn't want me messing with this because there _was_ no way to alter it. All we did was mess around with a possible future."

"And the only way to determine that future," Ginny put in eagerly, "is to make choices in the present."

"So, then," Blaise said slowly, "does that mean that as we move ahead in the future, making it our present and therefore an actual part of the timeline, that we'll start forgetting the possibilities?"

The other three stared at her.

"Think about it," she ordered. "What we did occurred in the future – within a possibility of events. Once we live, within our time, through those times that are currently in the future and make them real parts of the timeline, the other possibilities will become impossible and won't exist anymore. How can we remember something that doesn't exist? Right, Professor?"

"I believe your logic is sound, although there is little we can do to prove it," the headmaster said with a shrug.

"So," Harry said, with a deep breath. "Now that we've sorted all that out – sort of – what's the rest of _your _part in this, Professor? How did you know to find us in the Astronomy Tower tonight? Did the future Dumbledore tell you?"

"He told me what should happen if when the temporal bubble burst – that you would all be released back to wherever you had begun from. It was a simple matter of deduction from there.

"When you left my office Monday night, Harry, clearly intent on trying to save your daughter's life, I knew that I had to try and prevent you, if I could. But once it became clear that you had made your plans without my being about to discover you, I knew it was time to catch up with you and stop you before you did something rash. So I watched you during the Quidditch match. I must admit," he added, with an apologetic look at Draco, "that I was rather surprised by Slytherin's win and thus I did not notice your absence from the match until I heard Miss Granger asking Mr. Weasley if he had seen you at all. By that time, of course, you all had long gone."

Dumbledore sat back, his fingers steepled under his chin.

"It didn't take me long to deduce your location," he said. "The further you, Harry, were from the Quidditch pitch, the less likely it was that you would be discovered."

"That had been my thought as well," Harry said sheepishly.

"Having investigated the seventh-floor classrooms and sending one of the ghosts to Professor Trelawney's classroom without success, I decided to try the Astronomy Tower myself."

"Which is where you found us shell-shocked deaf after Red Robes threw down that smoke grenade," Harry finished.

"It was not a smoke grenade," Dumbledore told him. "It was, in fact, a curious artifact from the early nineteen forties called a Concussing Shell. Terrorists under the leadership of the dark wizard Grindelwald used them to make clean escapes without having to leave murder victims behind as evidence." Dumbledore smiled bitterly. "Grindelwald created the Concussing Shell early on in his reign of terror, shortly before the threat of his campaign, or indeed the campaign itself, became clear to anyone. That way his followers could escape totally undetected from almost anywhere. No one could see who they were and the deafening aspect of the charm temporarily forestalled any communication between their enemies. Simple, yet brilliant."

"So if Red Robes had one, he could be a time traveler from as far back as _Grindelwald's_ era?" Draco asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "As a matter of fact, I believe the identity of this person will be key in discovering his or her purpose."

Dumbledore stood slowly and moved to kneel once again at Red Robes' head. He slid a long-fingered hand into his robes and withdrew a small vial filled with clear liquid. He pulled out the stopper and then reached out a hand toward the face still mostly concealed behind the red hood. Blaise saw a shadow of a mouth being coaxed open by Dumbledore's forefinger and the vile being lowered carefully to the lips. With great care, Dumbledore allowed two drops to escape the bottle and fall into Red Robes' mouth. Then he murmured something under his breath, sat back on his haunches, and waited. Blaise saw the full lips purse briefly, as though Red Robes was swallowing.

This seemed to be what Dumbledore was waiting for. With a snap of his fingers, the army cot became a chair. With a few whispered words, ropes whipped out and bound Red Robes still-inert body to the chair. His head slumped forward slightly, as he was quite clearly still unconscious. Dumbledore regarded him for a moment, then murmured something else.

Red Robes' head rose slowly from his chest. The odd quality of his hood, which had seemed in times passed to shroud his face in voluminous depth, now seemed diminished. It hung limply, its length blocking Red Robes' eyes and nose from sight.

With a sudden, surprising surge of impatience, Blaise moved to stand before the chair and yanked back the hood.

Total silence descended upon the room.

Blaise knew her mouth was open and was sure that her heart stopped beating for several moments. She looked down into the vacant bluish purple eyes without knowing what she felt. She stared at the smooth jaw, the high cheekbones, the full lips, the aristocratic nose. The dark hair was long, longer even than Blaise's, and drawn into a heavy plait that fell over the right shoulder and down the back.

"It – it _can't_ be," Harry whispered, his green eyes explosively wide. "It isn't possible."

"But – but we _saw_ –" Ginny protested faintly. "In the future."

"No, you did not," Dumbledore told her. Blaise tore her eyes away from Red Robes just long enough to register the recognition in Dumbledore's eyes.

"The _voice_," Draco said disbelievingly, his eyes narrowed. "I mean, I know they can be altered, but –"

Together, the five of them stared at Red Robes.

The very alive, very _female_ Red Robes.

The very Blaise-looking Red Robes.

"She is _not_ Miss Zabini, I don't think," Dumbledore said, and Blaise felt a wild rush of relief. This woman sitting before her was the very image of the forty-year-old Blaise they had left back in Avalon. Of course, it was impossible that Red Robes could have been that forty-year-old Blaise, since the two of them had stood together in the clearing at Avalon, quite clearly two separate entities. But it could have been _a_ Blaise from another time. Seventeen-year-old Blaise was blindingly relieved that Dumbledore didn't think it was.

"What," he said slowly and clearly, addressing Red Robes, "is your name?"

"Andulin Zabini," Red Robes said dully, her eyes blinking twice.

Blaise gasped. So they _were_ related! There was no way they wouldn't have been, but hearing the words . . . most of Blaise's family had ties to dark wizards. She had just never met any of her extended family before.

"What year did you come from?" Dumbledore inquired of Andulin.

"1947," Andulin said. Blaise shivered. The woman didn't look a day above twenty-two.

"And what was your purpose in time traveling?" Dumbledore asked.

"I wanted to find the Holy Grail," Andulin intoned evenly.

"That explains her letting us lead her to Avalon, then," Ginny said.

"But she didn't ask for the Grail as ransom for Tristy, did she?" Blaise said. "She asked for me."

"For what purpose were you seeking the Grail?" Dumbledore went on, interrupting their speculations.

"To bring my master eternal life and youth that he might defeat Albus Dumbledore," Andulin returned.

Blaise blinked. Clearly her relative didn't recognize the man before her. In point of fact, she hadn't looked at any of them, including Blaise herself. And she was answering their questions awfully easily.

"Suppose she's lying, sir?" Draco cut in, clearly thinking along the same lines as Blaise.

"He gave her Veritaserum," Harry said absently, still goggling at Andulin Zabini. "That's what was in the vile. She has to tell the truth, whatever he asks her."

Blaise, Ginny, and Draco all stared at him in surprise.

Harry shrugged.

"I saw it used once in fourth year and Snape threatened me with it once," he told them, returning his attention to Red Robes.

"Who was your master?" Dumbledore went on.

"Lord Grindelwald," Andulin said, though her voice lacked any of the conviction Blaise had expected from one so close to the dark wizard.

"And what was your position within his ranks?" the headmaster went on, his voice unreadable.

"I am a member of the inner circle," Andulin answered.

"How many were within that circle?" Dumbledore went on.

"Five."

"Then why didn't one of them seize power when he died?" Blaise murmured. "I remember the history books – Grindelwald was defeated. No one would own up to being one of his followers."

"It was because by the time Grindelwald was defeated he had few supporters left," Dumbledore told them quietly. "We all suspected that he would have a protégé – most dark wizards do. But we never found any such person and no one ever laid claim to that title." His expression darkened. "A bribe was even offered to whomever would own up to being one of his closest supporters. Anyone willing to admit under Veritaserum would receive a lifetime sentence to Azkaban in exchange for what their punishment would be otherwise.

"What was the alternative?" Ginny asked tremulously.

"At the time, the Dementor's Kiss was considered perfectly legitimate," Dumbledore told her, his eyes darkening with memory.

He paused, as though lost in the past – a past he clearly did not like. At last, he returned his attention of Andulin.

"Tell me about your search for the Grail," he said. "Where did it begin?"

"My lord's supporters, myself included, knew that Lord Grindelwald was the greatest sorcerer in the world," Andulin said emotionlessly. "We knew that if a way could be found, he must be made immortal. He must be able to establish his world order. He told us so himself." A faint, slightly manic smile shadowed her full, red lips. "In fact, he offered us a reward. The servant to return with the most successful tool would be made his right hand. So I immediately began to plan. I knew my family possessed the ultimate weapon to use for my Lord Grindelwald's cause. The power of the Holy Grail had, at one time, been a widely acknowledged gift within the Zabini bloodline. It had the power to give my master the youth and immortality to govern the magical world forever." Her eyes grew darker and more intense. Blaise shivered again. "He would have Muggles eliminated so that wizards could take their true places, without fear and without having to hide. He would elevate those of us who'd been loyal to him and helped him achieve his reign. And I would be beside him, his hand – heir to his authority and his power."

She paused, her eyes losing some of their intense darkness.

"I knew that somewhere within my family lay the secret of the Grail," she said quietly, an eerie quality to her voice. "I had heard my own grandmother speak of it once. Zabinis have been linked to the Grail since it was first created. We are direct descendents of the noble man whose blood is within it."

Blaise saw Harry's mouth fall open.

"What?" she demanded.

"Remember what I was telling you about the Grail?" he said eagerly. "When we were on Glastonbury Tor? The Holy Grail contained the blood of the Christian's savior, Jesus Christ. But –" Harry frowned. "But that can't be right. The Christ wasn't supposed to have any children. He was the Son of God – he was wholly pure . . . "

"Within Christian teachings, there _is_ speculation, supported by the teachings within their holy text, the Bible, that Jesus _may_ have procreated," Dumbledore interjected. His eyes rested on Andulin Zabini with a mixture of perplexity and curiosity.

"So you're saying that the blood _in_ the Grail might be Jesus' blood, and the Zabinis are blood relatives to Jesus, so in essence, it's _Zabini_ blood as well?" Ginny said slowly.

"Let Ms. Zabini finish her story," Dumbledore said, his eyes not straying from her. "Go on. You began searching for the secret of the Grail within your own family. What happened?"

"I didn't know exactly what to look for," Andulin went on dully. "My father's extensive library, which has been passed down through generations of Zabinis, held the records I was looking for. According to those records, the power of the Grail was accessible only to Zabinis of a certain generation. That is, the ability to access it only appeared every five to _ten_ generations. There were records of each Zabini able to do it, all the way back to the Holy One himself."

"What is the power of the Grail supposed to do?" Draco asked incredulously. "Specifically, I mean. How does it grant immortality?"

"The grail holds the blood of the Holy One," Andulin said. "He had the power to heal the sick, give sight to the blind, and grant eternal life. So, too, did his blood." She gave a sudden, sharp inhalation. Then she continued as though this hadn't happened. "With such power as his very fingertips, my master would be invincible. I knew I had to find the key. During my research, I studied every Zabini woman on record. The ones who were suspected of holding the key to the Grail had several traits in common." She gave a sudden shudder and began blinking rapidly.

"She is beginning to fight the Veritaserum," Dumbledore said, getting quickly to his feet. He pulled the vial from his robes. Gently, he tilted Andulin's head back and allowed another drop to fall into her mouth.

Abruptly, she stopped blinking and stared blankly ahead.

"Continue from where you left off, Ms. Zabini," Dumbledore prompted, settling back into his chair.

"They had several traits in common," she obeyed. "Zabinis typically have darker skin and hair and dark blue or purple eyes. However, the _only_ Zabini women on record who have true violet eyes also have uncommonly good vision and hearing. In addition, their bodies have unnaturally strong immune systems and their powers of self-healing are inexplicable by common medical standards. There was also a side note about their ability to utilize their access to the Grail being the most – potent, I suppose, during their fortieth year of life. " She paused and her strange, almost-purple eyes turned to glare almost directly at Blaise. "The most interesting thing, though, is that they are all on record as having the same Caduceus. It's thirteen inches, refined white marble, with the core of a unicorn tail hair."

Blaise stared down at her own Caduceus. She could feel the eyes of the others trained on her.

"Where did you get yours, Blaise?" Harry asked.

"My mother gave it to me before I came to Hogwarts," Blaise said faintly, with a shrug. "All I know is that my great-great grandmother put it in storage and told my great-grand mother to give it to my mum to give to her first-born daughter – me."

"How did she know to give it to you?" Ginny asked, awed. "She couldn't have even known you'd be born. She probably didn't even know your _mum_ would be born!"

"The wand chooses the wizard," Andulin said, as though they had asked her directly. "The wand will find a way to find its wizard. It is always seeking to rest in the hands of its true master. Zabini women have passed Caducei down since the beginning. And every Zabini Caduceus has remained within our family."

"Is _your_ wand the one she just described, by any chance, Miss Zabini?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Ye-yes," Blaise murmured, staring at it. "Refined white marble, thirteen inches, unicorn tail feather." She paused, then added with what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug, "I've always been decent at healing arts."

"So," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. He returned his attention fully to Andulin. "And so you were able to start identifying a Zabini woman possessing the key to the Grail," he prompted. "What did you do next?"

"There was an experiment within the Ministry's Department of Mysteries that I found out about on a reconnaissance mission less than a year after my master gave us his wish. They were experimenting with time travel and a device that could make it possible. At the time, I didn't think much of it, but my research into my family's secret began a few months later when Lord Grindelwald was coming more fully to power within the magical world. When I discovered that somewhere in my family's past or future there was the key to eternal life, I knew I had to have it. I knew that I did not possess the key, but _somewhere_, one of my nieces or aunts or grandmothers or great granddaughters did. I knew the time device the Unspeakables were working on was the way to discover the key holder."

Her face darkened and an ugly look marred her striking features.

"I was making my plans to steal a Time-Turner when war broke out in the wizarding world," she went on after a tense pause. "I was needed every moment with Lord Grindelwald, to plan and spy and help his cause and was left no time to prepare for his future." Her face filled with self-loathing. "Had I been more quick – but I was weak and too busy focusing on the present, instead of preparing for the future – my master's future."

"What prevented you successfully bringing Grindelwald the Grail?" Dumbledore asked, his voice suddenly steely.

"About a year into the war, my master had a duel," Andulin said darkly. "Albus Dumbledore, a newer professor at Hogwarts –" she all but spat the name – "and an upstart pupil of Dash Underwood, challenged my master to duel him. Well, it should have been no competition. Lord Grindelwald _should_ have prevailed." Her voice grew vaguely desperate. "But Dumbledore won, somehow. He defeated my master. I was honored enough to see him fall." Her voice was bitter.

"What did you do?" Ginny asked, sounding both horrified and eager.

"I knew instantly that I had get a Time-Turner," Andulin said, the desperation back in her voice again. Her mood swings were starting to make Blaise nervous. "I finished my plans to break into the Ministry at the same time that I finished my research on the Zabinis. I knew that the Time-Turner was close to completion. Final tests had all been extremely positive. I knew how it worked – I listened around while I was spying and knew that it was operated by thought and the number of turns one gave it. I knew experimentation would show me the rest."

She drew a deep breath and continued, her rant becoming faster.

"My first thought was to simply steal the prototype and make use of it," she told them, her eyes wide and over-bright. "But then I thought, why settle for that when, should it work, the Time-Turner could be improved? Why settle for an experiment when I could have the real thing? My research on time helped me understand the importance of care. If I took the one existing Time-Turner and made off with it, they might not exist in the future. So I took the original, intending to procure one of my own from the future and then jump back and return the original. No one would ever know it was gone."

She smiled thinly.

"The plan worked out better than I had ever dreamed," she murmured. "Since the future is all pure speculation – no certainty, you know, since it hasn't yet occurred – I was able to find the Time-Turner I wanted, jump back in time, and replace the one I had taken without anyone being the wiser." Her smile widened unpleasantly. "I will never know if it was luck or destiny, but the random jump I made forward landed me near to someone whom I soon discovered was, in fact, a Zabini."

She paused for breath again and then continued.

"That first jump wasn't, in fact, the first," she told them. "I did a bit of experimentation with short jumps first. Five hours forward, for instance, or ten minutes back. Jumping back, particularly when you're within the time of your own lifespan, can be very complicated. I met myself once – very disconcerting. Anyway, after a few controlled tests I discovered that all I had to do was think about the future or the past to differentiate between them. As in, five minutes into the future, so that I would go five minutes into the future instead of automatically five minutes into the past. I found that even subconscious thought influenced the Time-Turner."

Blaise saw Harry wince. She suddenly realized that, when he had been using the Time-Turner to help them escape Red Robes the first time, he probably hadn't consciously been thinking about when to take them, but rather about getting them away. However, subconscious thought had probably still been going on about his daughter and thus, the Time-Turner had taken him to _her_ time without him consciously telling it to do so.

"That must have been how it carried me so far without me realizing it," she went on dreamily. "I was trying to decide where to go and I thought I would try a random place in the future, as I had no factual information to work with. I simply thought about the future – and probably thoughts of my kin were floating around unconsciously in my head simultaneously, which directed the Time-Turner to the most likely location of one or other of my kin."

She paused again for breath.

"I rematerialized outside the Ministry, exactly the location I had started in," she said. "I discovered the year – 2021 – as quickly as I could and then tried to think of the next best course of action. It was quite easy to operate incognito, what with the fact that I didn't technically exist." She smirked. "I decided that it would be folly to go to the Zabini estate. I would be recognized and probably arrested. So I thought I would try a location where I would be very likely to find a Zabini.

"Hogwarts."

"Sir, doesn't this mean that she might have been a student of yours back in her own time – I mean, if she knew about Hogwarts?" Harry said suddenly. "Have you ever heard of her?"

"No, I'm afraid I have not," Dumbledore said regretfully. "Either she finished school here before I began teaching, or she was taught by Professor Underwood, rather than myself." He glanced at Blaise. "There is always the possibility, of course, that she never attended Hogwarts."

"All Zabinis have attended Hogwarts," Blaise said shortly. "Anyway, she clearly found her way onto the ground at some point. Isn't the castle protected from anyone getting in who hasn't been invited, with the exception of alumni?"

"Very true," Dumbledore said, looking impressed. Blaise found at present that his approval didn't mean very much to her. He nodded to Andulin. "Please, continue."

"I knew Hogwarts to be in Northern Scotland, but I had no idea how to get there." She smirked again. "But I knew how to get aboard the Hogwarts express from my own years of attending the wretched place. I pretended to be a parents attending to see my child off and then snuck aboard and hid in the luggage compartment. It wasn't difficult to unlock several students' trunks and steal a complete Hogwarts uniform, so I did. I did a simple color-reversing charm on my hair and played myself off as a new student.

"I spent the trip going from car to car, listening at door and talking to a few people," she went on. "It didn't take me long to find a likely candidate. Her appearance was a dead giveaway – a Slytherin _and_ a prefect – and her wit, even more so." Andulin pulled another smile that was more a grimace. "I seem to recall her giving a blonde Gryffindor prefect quite a deal of lip."

Draco suddenly started, gaping at her in utter disbelief.

"Are you telling us that the first Zabini you ran into was _Tristan_?" he demanded.

"How do you figure that?" Blaise asked.

"The date, first of all," he said. "It took me a minute, but she said 2021. Tristan would have been seventeen. And she was arguing with a _blonde prefect_. Even if the year wasn't a giveaway, the fact that they were arguing means it wasn't you or I. You _never_ argued with me before this whole mess started and you're not a prefect."

"Carry on," Dumbledore told Andulin, with an approving look at Draco.

"I never actually spoke to either of them, but I listened carefully," Andulin continued, as though she hadn't been interrupted. "It took me some time to confirm her identity, as her last name was not Zabini, but my patience paid off. I pretended that I had been sorted into Slytherin in a private ceremony before the opening feast and then sat near the girl and her friends. I stayed close to them for about a week before I got my answers. Eventually, her lineage appeared in one of her many arguments with the blonde prefect. Although her eyes were bright green, I thought I had better make sure she wasn't the correct Zabini woman, just to save time. It didn't take me long to rule her out. Her eyesight was dreadful, and a Quidditch incident about a month into first term put her in hospital for a month. Her powers were quite clearly not of the sort to be Grail-associated."

She paused, her eyes clouding.

"I skipped around within her timeline," she went on at last. "September to January to March and the like. By the time I'd jumped to March, I was ready to figure out my next suspect and be off. But then something happened that I didn't intend." Her eyes darkened. "I was preparing to leave for another time and I needed her mother's age – something to give me an idea of what time I might need to look for her in. I was trailing herself and her friends to a Potions lesson when they had a run-in with the blonde prefect. She was very adamant that he meet her before class so she could discuss something with him."

Andulin sneered.

"I assumed it was an excuse to escape into a broom closet – it seemed just the thing, the way they carried on. But I followed anyway, and soon discovered that it was an event of far more interest to me." Now a cold, wild smile began to tease her lips. "It seemed that Miss Zabini – or I suppose it was technically Potter – anyway, she had somehow procured a Time-Turner. Well, the blonde prefect – Malfoy, I believe – was very cautious at first. But Miss Potter explained her motives – she wished to go back in time and visit her mother, whom she had not seen since she was four years old. She was curious what her mum was like when _she_ was seventeen. She told Malfoy that he could come or go if he was too cowardly. Well, that was Gryffindor baiting and he bit, hard."

Her face drifted from cruelly amused to thoughtful in an instant.

"I wasn't quite sure how to follow, so I thought I might try employing the subconscious direction trick. It worked well. It could sense, I think, that I wished to follow the children and it took me right in behind them. It even placed me at their backs. It was quite simple after that. I killed them, relieved them of their Time-Turner, and returned the original to its home not five minutes after I'd stolen it."

Blaise felt herself shaking. Well, now they knew the reason. Hayden and Tristan had died because they had simply been in the way. No heroics, no chance at all. To Blaise's right, Ginny was pale as a ghost and gripping Draco's hand. Harry was rigid with fury.

Andulin, meanwhile, continued as if she didn't notice.

"It was most convenient of Miss Potter to lead me to my next Zabini," she went on. "But Dumbledore was headmaster, so I had to be more careful than I had been with Snape." She grimaced, but carried on. "It took me a bit longer to track down Blaise Zabini, but not much. I had to remain completely concealed in the meantime. I sensed that Dumbledore would know I didn't belong, so I hid in the Restricted Section of the library. It worked quite well, as few use that interesting collection." She sneered faintly. "I listened to people coming in and out of the library and came to understand that there was a large Quidditch match that Friday. I was also fortunate enough to ascertain that Blaise would be playing in it. It was a perfect opportunity to witness her skill. Was her eyesight really superior? Would her injuries slow her up?

"The night of the match I left the library shortly before it closed. I borrowed an abandoned Hogwarts robe I found abandoned on a chair near the door to cover my own modest attire." She sneered again. "I watched from the edge of the pitch while Blaise helped play a spectacular match. Then I watched as, after the match, both the Gryffindor and Slytherin Seekers disappeared off the pitch. I was delighted when Blaise followed."

Blaise felt cold. Her fault – all that week she had been tailed by Red Robes – the very person who had nearly cost them so much. Had she but paid attention! But to what? She had had absolutely no knowledge of Red Robes – Andulin Zabini – until that very night. What _could_ she have done?

"I followed them up to the Astronomy Tower and pretended that I wanted their Time-Turner. Little they knew – what I actually wanted was to find Blaise's forty-year-old self whom I was convinced possessed the key to the Grail. They left the tower and I used the same method I had used to track Miss Potter – I let my Time-Turner take me. At first, I couldn't figure out what Potter was doing. Then I realized, whilst listening to them argue – oh, yes, I was tailing you during your brief stay at Hogwarts before tracking your carriage to Red's Park – that Harry Potter thought he could save his little brat, whose body was found by him in the entrance hall."

Harry was suddenly on his feet and advancing on Andulin, his fists clenched. Blaise and Ginny only just kept him from smashing in her face.

Andulin continued as though there had been no interruption.

"I tailed the carriage to the Malfoy estate," she said. "I had a feeling that if I stuck with Potter and Blaise long enough, they would lead me to the Blaise I was looking for." She paused. "The myth of Avalon was something my grandmother had once told me of, along with the Grail. I had a feeling we were heading there when I saw Potter and Blaise lead their merry band away from the Malfoy estate. I tailed, leaving space between myself and the group. A couple of times, I began to have doubts about whether Blaise was the right Zabini. I thought it might be a good idea to test her a bit more, since we seemed to have extra time on our hands." She smiled coldly. "I knew that a few mountain trolls had picked up our scent off and on while we were traversing the woods – I set them on the group, hoping that Blaise would find some way of proving her worth to me unknowingly. She did – her excellent eyesight allowed her to jump off a cliff and attack a mountain troll without being seriously injured. I was almost satisfied. I thought perhaps one more test. I reset a Portkey in Batley, which I knew they intended to use to take them to a dragon hatching ground. Dragons are very violent, but on another magical creature – like a possessor of a key to the Holy Grail, I had a feeling that their aggression would be eliminated. I was right. Blaise was the only member of the party not hurt by the dragon after perhaps the closest encounter of any of them."

Well, that explained a lot, Blaise thought sourly.

"I was convinced that I must have the right one and that the answer lay in Avalon, where I was now sure that we were going," Andulin was clearly coming to the home stretch. "I followed them to Glastonbury, where I watched the group at the Chalice Well vanish. I wasn't sure how to get in myself, so I simply copied the movements I had seen. To my amazement, I was allowed entrance as well. I hid in the forest and crept around until I came upon the group. And there, in their midst, was the forty-year-old Blaise Zabini – the one I needed. It didn't take long to calculate her age based on my other jumps and what I knew of Blaise's age to her daughter's. At last, I had found the key to my master's eternal life."

She fell silent, but no one really needed to hear any more. They knew the rest.

"What I am still not getting," Draco said, after a long silence, "is this key thing. So forty-year-old Blaise was "the key" to the Holy Grail. Great – but the Grail is still missing from the picture."

Andulin didn't volunteer any information on this, so they all sat staring blankly off into the distance for a time.

It was Dumbledore who broke the silence.

"Perhaps it would be as well for me to solve this particular riddle," he said slowly, looking carefully around at them all. "You see, it all ties back to Dumbledore – myself, futuristically – taking such care to protect you, Miss Zabini. You, the key to the Holy Grail. But have you ever considered _how_ you are the key?"

"Wouldn't it mean she could have special access to the Grail?" Ginny hazarded.

"In a manner of speaking," Dumbledore encouraged. "But try thinking of it this way. What _is_ the Grail?"

"It's a cup," Harry said promptly. "A cup that holds the blood of Jesus Christ."

"And we were speculating about the Zabini family being direct descendents of Jesus," Dumbledore nodded. "Their blood is his blood – or vice-versa."

"Wait . . . " Blaise said, as his words flashed across her mind in blinding illumination. "Our blood is his blood . . . you're saying that there _is_ no Grail. Or rather, not a Grail in the sense of a cup."

She paused, staring up into Dumbledore's light blue eyes with sudden understanding.

"You're saying that the Zabinis are, in a way, the keepers of the Grail," Blaise breathed, wide-eyed. "And that key Zabini woman who comes along every five or ten generations _is _the Holy Grail – the cup holding the blood of the Holy One!"

"Precisely," Dumbledore confirmed, looking pleased. "You may or may not recognize the importance of the age of forty."

"There _are_ several references to that number in the Bible," Harry offered. His eyes were fixed on Blaise in wonder. "It's kind of a holy number, I guess. Lots of importance placed on it."

"So in order for my blood to be effective as the blood of the Holy One," Blaise said slowly, "it has to be at least forty years old."

"I believe it is most potent, then, yes," Dumbledore agreed.

Silence descended once again in the head master's office. Blaise felt numb – aloof, even. She couldn't take it in. She remembered Dumbledore's speculation that as time wore on they might forget all the events related to their soiree into the future and prayed that it would come to pass. She wasn't sure she would be able to stand it when she actually reacted to everything they had learned tonight.

"Well," Dumbledore said at length, and his voice startled Blaise enough that she jumped. "I believe that that is all we need to know." He murmured under his breath and Andulin Zabini's head lolled forward onto her chest, her eyelids drooping shut.

"I will alert the Ministry that she is here and needs to be taken away immediately," he said briskly. He waved his hand and the chair became a cot once again, although the restraints at her arms and legs remained.

His attention then returned to Blaise and the others. His expression was impenetrably grave.

"I believe I did as I promised," he said. "You have now learnt the whole story and, I hope, a bit more about time. It now remains to be seen what will happen to you all."

His eyes went over each of them in turn. Blaise sensed severe disappointment and couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for what they had done. It had been a rather half-arsed effort, after all was said and done. And the cost could have been far higher, fair more permanently damaging. But there was something else in Dumbledore's eyes, which, though serious, were also kind. There was a kind of empathy, as though he was aware of what it felt like to know that you had done what you thought was right and how unfair it felt to be punished for it.

At length, he spoke.

"As each of you will take away from this experience a different lesson, I think your punishments should be reflective of that," he said.

His eyes turned first to Blaise.

"Miss Zabini," he said. "You have learnt a great deal about your family from this experience. Your punishment – or shall we call it an _assignment_? Yes, that's much pleasanter, isn't it? Your assignment, then, is to learn everything you can about the Holy Grail and your family's history. You will have free access to any and all records within Hogwarts or the Ministry that pertain to your research. Your goal is to find out everything you can and acquit yourself so that you will never be forced to hide yourself away in the future."

He turned to Ginny.

"Ginevra, as this is one of few misdemeanors on your record and I can see that you are aware of your wrongdoings, your punishment will not be harsh. You will continue your current studies, but next year, in addition to your N.E.W.T.-level classes you will be taking a course taught by Professor Sinistra on temporal theory. I want you to become an expert on time. I will expect biweekly reports from you next year and I expect a final presentation on it for myself and the good professor at the end of the year."

Ginny nodded, head lowered, and Dumbledore moved on.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said thoughtfully. "To be perfectly frank, I am not entirely sure what to do with you. Your record is certainly not spotless and I'm sure some form of punishment is in order, but I cannot decide what might befit you the best." The headmaster paused for a moment, then nodded decidedly. "Your task within the next week is to come up with a punishment for yourself from which you will learn and grow."

Draco nodded, scowling at this harsh abuse, and Blaise bit her lip against a smile. Dumbledore's own eyes twinkled, until they turned to rest, at long last, on Harry.

"Harry," he said at length, his eyes filled with something that made Blaise go cold. She wanted to stop him saying anything else, but she knew better. Instead, she gripped her armrests with white-knuckled fingers.

"I'm afraid," Dumbledore continued after a slight pause, "that I _did_ warn you the last time that any more serious rule-breaking would lose you your place at Hogwarts."

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, looking anywhere but at the headmaster. Blaise bit down harder on her lip and swallowed.

"As the mastermind behind this escapade you put three of your fellow students, as well as yourself, in grave danger – not to mention all of the broken laws in your wake."

"Yes, sir," Harry repeated dully.

"As I can see that you properly understand the seriousness of your behavior, I will not go on in this way," Dumbledore told him. "But you must be warned – your punishment is severe."

"I know." Not but a whisper.

"I am afraid that it is my duty . . . to expel you," Dumbledore said. The final word looked as though it cost him some trouble to speak.

"No!" Blaise and Ginny cried simultaneously, leaping to their feet.

"You can't!" Ginny said frantically. "We're just as much to blame, sir, and you're not expelling us. Honestly, it's not fair!"

"Sir, he was doing what he thought was right!" Blaise snarled, her hands clamping onto the edge of the desk as she leaned toward the headmaster. "Give him a chance to –"

"Don't send him away!" Ginny begged. "What about N.E.W.T.s? Graduation? He's so close to being finished – just let him finish!"

"We're two months from the end of seventh year!" Blaise added quickly. "Just give him detention with Professor Snape or something . . . "

Both girls slowly fell silent at the look on Dumbledore's face. Blaise sank into her chair, the shock from earlier replaced by a boiling anger. Harry didn't deserve this – he deserved another chance. He had done more for this school than bloody Dumbledore. How many times had he played hero to You-Know-Who's assaults since first year?

"I am sorry," Dumbledore said, and he certainly looked it. "But Harry has had fair warning. He made the choice and the consequences are his as well."

"So I'm expelled," Harry said numbly. He glanced sideways. "Congratulations, Malfoy," he added with stoic sarcasm. "It's the day you've been dreaming of since we first met. Shall we toast your victory?"

Draco grimaced, and to Blaise's surprise, didn't respond. He wasn't look at Harry, but was instead toying with his cuff.

After a tense moment, deadened green eyes raised to meet Dumbledore's. "Where will I go? The Dursleys?" He brightened almost imperceptibly. "I . . . don't suppose Snuffles will have me?"

"That's right – Snuffles!" Ginny said. Blaise wondered what the deuce they were carrying on about.

"I am afraid that Snuffles is working at present," Dumbledore said apologetically. Then, to Blaise's surprise, his eyes suddenly began to sparkle. Not much, but just enough. Her heart leapt for Harry. "However, I have a feeling that you will have ample opportunity to see him where you will be going."

Harry stared blankly at him for a long moment. Then a slow smile began to crease his face. Blaise couldn't figure out what he could possibly have to grin like that about. It wasn't a grin, per se, but it was look that suggested that a day of thunderstorms had just become morning showers with afternoon sun breaks.

"But . . . sir, I'd understood from Mrs. – from certain people that you didn't want me going until after school ends in June," Harry said, his tone still cautiously hopeful.

"As I am about to expel you, school _will_ be ending for you very shortly," the headmaster said. "As for your N.E.W.T.s, which you will, of course, miss, I will have them sent to you and a license from the Ministry will oversee them." Dumbledore smiled at him at last. "Your punishment, Harry, is to study hard enough to receive twelve N.E.W.T.s. Removed from school as you will be, you will not have the distractions that many complain of. I expect a glowing report on your diploma. I also expect to hear that whomever they find to train you works you hard. You know it will not be easy, but I have faith that you can do it."

"Thanks, sir," Harry breathed, his own smile widening considerably.

"Someone mind telling us lower life forms what's going on?" Draco spoke up irritably. "Potter, you shouldn't be bloody smiling about expulsion."

"Can I tell them, Professor?" he asked, his voice almost eager. "I trust them completely."

"If you wish."

Harry turned to look at the other three. His expression sobered.

"I've been badgering Professor Dumbledore for the last year about joining the Order of the Phoenix," he explained earnestly.

"Oh, now, _there_'s a surprise!" Draco said mockingly, sneering at Harry.

"Shut up, wanker," Harry snapped. He actually blushed. "Er, sorry, Professor."

"What was that?" Dumbledore asked mildly, rubbing his ear with a forefinger. There was a definite twinkle in his eye now.

"Anyway," Harry went on, "he told me straight out that I wasn't allowed to join until I graduated, at which point I would be ready and have a diploma and everything." He shrugged. "It's just stepping the schedule up a bit. I _was_ going to make for Order HQ this June, but now I'll be leave in a few days."

_Leaving in a few days_. Blaise went still. She wasn't sure how many more shocks her system could take.

"Well," said Dumbledore, jumping into the pause after Harry's excited speech. "You have all had an extremely long week – I think it may now be time for a good night's sleep. Your punishments begin first thing tomorrow, if applicable."

They stood silently and headed for the door. None of them spoke as they exited Dumbledore's office and descended the spiral staircase. Blaise's chest ached and she was careful not to look at Harry. With any luck she would be able to slip away without him kicking up a fuss.

At the bottom of the staircase, Draco came to a sudden halt. He had been leaning on Harry again for support and his abrupt stop nearly sent the Gryffindor tumbling.

"What, Malfoy?" he demanded.

"So that's it?" the Slytherin bit out.

"What's 'it'?" Harry asked, sounding surprised.

"Oh, don't be a git – I know it comes naturally, but try to resist for thirty seconds," Draco drawled. "This sudden picking up and leaving deal. So it's just like that? Pack your bags and be off in a couple of days?"

"Something like that," Harry said, his voice rather tart. "I don't want to make a huge production out of it – I'll just let my friends know and be off."

"Us, included?" Ginny asked. Blaise saw that her lip was quivering. The dark Slytherin bit furiously down on her own.

"Of course!" Harry said, sounding astonished and mildly offended. "After all we've been through? You're my friends, too. At least," he added, with an uncertain look, "I _think_ you are."

"Don't be thick, Harry," Ginny said, putting her arms around him, which was awkward as Draco was still leaning on him.

"He's so good at it, though – why ask him to stop now?" Draco put in smarmily.

"I could just let you fall down the last few stairs," Harry snapped.

"Friends," Ginny said sternly. She stepped back from Harry and shook her finger at them. "No stupid bickering, now. Not when," she swallowed, "Harry's going to be gone in a few days."

"Will no one pine for me when _I'm_ away?" Draco cried dramatically.

"What're you on about, you great ugly prat?" Blaise demanded. She was still standing resolutely behind the two boys, not wanting to see Harry's face at all.

"Well, if he gets to go, so do I," Draco said, looking back over his shoulder at her as though she were stupid.

"What?" Ginny, Blaise, and Harry said together.

"Are you all suddenly deaf?" Draco demanded crossly.

"Possibly – I thought I just heard you say you were quitting school and coming to join the Order with me," Harry said, his face an odd mixture of suspicion and interest.

"Though perhaps not in so many words," Draco said.

"And I suppose your vanity will be mortally offended if I ask if you've actually given this _any_ thought?" Ginny said sharply. Blaise could see her face as she glared back and forth between the boys.

Draco's expression went coy.

"Why, Miss Ginevra, I'd say you were going soft on me," he mocked, reaching out and tweaking her nose. She battled his hand away none-too-gently.

"Get off!" she snapped. "I'm serious. Did you just come up with this off the top of your head because it sounded like fun? Because it won't be! This is serious, Draco! You can't just go off joining random war efforts – what about your father? What about You-Know-Who? What about all those things I'm sure you haven't thought about that are bound to crop up and knock you –"

Draco suddenly lurched forward, wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck, and pulled her mouth hard against his.

"Too close, too close!" Harry wailed, throwing his free arm – the one that wasn't struggling to keep Draco from crashing down the stairs – rather ineffectually over his eyes.

Ginny, meanwhile, had wrapped her arms around him. To Blaise's surprise, she pulled away rather quickly. She was blushing, but a small smile twisted her lips.

"If you're serious about leaving with Harry, don't you dare kiss me like that again until I can see you every day," she growled, punching his shoulder gently and then clinging tightly to him for a moment. When she stepped back, she was wiping her eyes.

Draco groaned.

"Damn it," he muttered. He turned a glare on Harry. "Why is it that you get the more difficult girl, but everything works out for you?"

"It's because I'm smooth, Malfoy," Harry chortled, helping him start back down the steps.

"So smooth," Blaise said with the utmost sarcasm lacing her voice. However, she fell into step beside Harry and took his free hand in hers. Ginny fell into step beside Draco, allowing their hands to brush occasionally but nothing else. Draco was looking supremely frustrated.

"Cheer up, Malfoy," Harry said, giving Blaise's fingers a grateful squeeze. "We'll be war heroes, you know. There'll be books written about our daring undercover missions, our heroic deeds. Rita Skeeter will have us with five different girls a week."

Blaise dug her fingernails into his hand.

"Ow!" Harry yelped. "Joking – I was _joking_!"

"_So_ smooth," Draco murmured, sneering.

"Oh, but, Harry," said Ginny, with a wicked look at Draco, "your name's already in most of our DADA books."

"Yeah – go, Potty, go," Draco griped, the sneer vanishing under a pout.

"You know, someone _should_ write a book about you two," Blaise said thoughtfully. "I mean, in the course of two non-existent weeks you became friends. What're the odds? What would your fathers say?"

"My dad's probably turning in his grave," Harry said with a crooked smile.

"Wish I could say the same," Draco said mournfully. He gave a smirk. "Wait until my father finds out I joined the Order. He'll piss himself and _then_ do something homicidal."

"We could send our dad's copies of our memoir," Harry suggested, laughing. "I reckon they've got bookstores in the afterlife. Anyway, I have the perfect title: _Stalemate_."

"Or how about something really dramatic?" Ginny offered. "Like . . . I dunno – Potter vs. Malfoy: War's End?"

Harry and Draco glanced at each other. Blaise saw their lips twitching traitorously.

"Yeah," they both said, nodding slowly. "Yeah."

)PvsM(

THE END ('cept the epilogue, obviously)

I would just like to give MAD PROPS to a reviewer by the clever name of **Bard's Soul**. You are one insightful person and I was very impressed when I read your review. You are THE ONLY reviewer thus far to have correctly guessed any of the key points pre-final chapter! That "random guess" as you put it, re: Blaise being the Holy Grail was obviously true and I am, as I say, very impressed that you nailed the answer! Go you! Also, props to my v. faithful and comprehensive reviewer **JoeBob1379**, whose review for Chapter 14 was very much on the right track. There are several other people who came very close to nailing the answer in their reviews, so MAD PROPS to you all! You're insightful, intelligent people and I loff you! I also have to add a shot-out of reviewer **phantasm3 **for making me laugh v. hard by remembering "Jumanji." My friend, it may surprise you to know that I understand what you mean! Props to ya!

Also a quicky shout-out to my FA readers, particularly **Sub, Spidey, Wyvie, **and **Toothpick.** Sorry I haven't been around in a while. Thanks to all of you for playing with my characters on the RR and humoring me by reviewing here at You rock! Loffs and Draco Lollies (also a few Snape Cookies, but not a word to **XX**!).

And finally, here at the very end, there are two people who get entire PARAGRAPHS to themselves. The first is my original coauthor, **Lee Velviet**. She wrote several of the first chapters and has given me her help and input even after having to drop the project due to events occurring in "real life". She bore with my pleading that she coauthor a fic with me and then was big enough to humor me when I suggested a Time-Turner fic, even though she swore never to do one (now I know why, you genius girl, you!). She's been incredible and sharing this experience (even if it was half of what I'd hoped for) taught me a lot and meant a whole hell of a lot to me! Loves, sweetie! Thanks so much for everything!

The second is my incredible beta, **XX **(sorry, hun, I'm just not up to finding your full screen name tonight!). This girl was incredibly thoughtful and perceptive when she first began reviewing **WE**. She asked me hundreds of questions and made me really start _thinking_ about the plot and the complexity I was dealing with. She is also a genius at grammar and the like and has done wonders in the way of smoothing out language for me. She also introduced me to FA and FAP, for which introduction I am eternally grateful. Anyway, the nub and gist is that she has been invaluable in this process and I can't thank her enough! Loffs to ya, hun – you seriously rock my writing socks (they have little cat head bobbles on the ankles – cute, huh? ).

And to all of you reviewers who egged me on, threatened me, and encouraged me, let me say THANK YOU! I have indeed read every review, and know that I don't deserve the praise many of you bestow so willingly upon, but I have done my best not to disappoint!

Thanks again to all! You've made my life as a writer a very happy one!

Epilogue (extensive, let me assure you) to follow in the new year!

Happy hols to all!

That is all.


	17. Bridging the Gap: Part 1

Potter vs. Malfoy: Bridging the Gap

By Jedi Tess of Gryffindor

Summary: Aware of the fact that her most beloved fic had in it a gaping hole, J.T. set out many months ago to make things right. Here (she hopes) is a ficlet that will satisfied any unsatisfied "War's End" readers and, indeed, finish forever the "Potter vs. Malfoy" saga.

A/N: So, gang, here it is. This is the final piece of "War's End". This will hopefully give a better idea of how the friendships and relationships between Ginny, Draco, Harry, and Blaise were developed. It also explains their involvement in the war against Voldemort, and why poor Harry appears to be so something in WE's epilogue. I have to add that if there are elements of OOTP in this, it is because I shamelessly borrowed them for my own nefarious purposes. This remains, however, an AU, written and completed in the pre-OOTP timeline.

This if been designed in three parts. The first two have been written. The third is in progress. I will post the first two a couple of weeks apart to force you all to savor it while I try desperately to complete the third – and most complicated – piece. The first two are fairly important and long, though, so never fear.

Thanks for your amazing patience and wonderful reviews! You are truly a fantastic bunch of readers. You're every writer's dream audience, I swear!

Loffs!

J.T. of Gryffindor

P.S. Looking for new D/G? Just so happens that I'm in the process of fixing up (a LOT) "Sometimes, I Even Amaze Myself" so that plot and technicalities-wise, it's up to par with "War's End" and "Bend It". I'm actually posting the new chapters on Fiction Alley, so if you'd care to read (and review ) it can be found here: _**Sometimes I Even Amaze Myself**_.

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good – er, I mean, I own nothing. Yeah... All characters and situations taken from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter canon are solely hers. Original, non-canonical plot ideas belong to me, Tess Williams, as of August 2002, when this piece was originally begun. I intend no copyright infringement by dabbling in the Harry Potter universe!

**Part 1**

One Month Later – May 1998

Draco Malfoy sat quietly at the scrubbed wooden table in 5 Inmind St. and stared into the fire.

"Something on your mind?"

"Potter, we may be reluctant comrades now, but the idea of confessing my innermost feelings to you makes me physically ill."

"Oh – daydreaming about Ginny again?"

"Sod off."

Harry sat down across from him, snagging the cup that sat untouched in front of him.

"She's got at least another year of school," he offered, taking a sip. "She'll be safe at Hogwarts."

"Do the words 'bugger off' mean anything to you?"

"Anyway, she'll be here at headquarters all summer, won't she? Plenty of time to – " Harry clutched his chest melodramatically – "confess you _undying love_ for her."

"You sicken me," Draco told him, snagging the cup back, taking a sip, and wincing as the tepid Earl Grey slid down his throat. "I don't understand why you lot keep mashing us together romantically."

"'You lot' being Blaise and I?" Harry asked.

"You're both damned annoying."

"Thanks, we try."

"I'll never understand how the two of you hooked up."

"Me, neither."

Draco looked up and saw a faint frown crease his – all right, his _friend's_ – face.

"I mean – Malfoy, it's _weird_!" Harry went on, his expression perplexed. He wore that expression well, Draco thought with an internal smirk. "I've never felt this way about _anyone_! Why Blaise? I have this vague idea that we've been together for a month and a half or so, but neither of us can remember exactly where it started."

"One night stand?"

"Please, we're seventeen! Who has one night stands when – oh, right. Never mind." Harry gave him a pointed eye-roll.

"I am a gentleman," Draco informed him haughtily. "I give it my all for at least a week."

"You chauvinist, you," Harry said.

"Shut up – what were you saying?"

"About Blaise and I not remembering exactly how we got together," Harry told him. He paused. "Well, we can remember _parts_ of it. There's something about a troll – maybe I saved her life –"

Draco snorted derisively and gave _him_ a pointed look.

Harry sighed.

"_Or_ she saved mine," he amended with a look that said, "Happy now?"

"It's not half as weird as none of us remembering anything about Red Robes," Draco pointed out.

"Apparently, we brought her in," Harry said. "According to Dumbledore, the Unspeakables have her whole story away on record in the Department of Mysteries."

"Fat lot of good it does _us_ there," Draco snorted. "We're not even grads yet, Potter. You think we'll rate that level of classification even two years from now?"

Harry shrugged.

"I'm not sure I _want_ to know," he said bluntly. "I don't feel like I need to. Which is weird, because most of the time –"

"You're a nosy sod."

Harry grinned.

"True. But now . . ." He sighed. "It's the first time in my life when I almost don't think I _should_ know. I feel like it's – well, it sounds mad – but I feel like it's someone's diary and I have the key, but obviously I know I shouldn't read it, you know?"

"Nope," Draco said. "I wouldn't have a problem reading someone else's diary."

"Right," Harry murmured, looking faintly annoyed. "I'd forgotten it's you I'm talking to. But since it's _me_ we're talking _about_ – "

"Right," Draco grunted, his own expression faintly contemptuous. "You feel _morally opposed_ to getting into someone else's stuff. Keeping in mind, of course, that this isn't someone else's diary – it's _your_ 'diary', since we're being all metaphorical."

"I know," Harry said quietly. "But I still don't want to know."

Draco was silent for a moment.

"You?" Harry asked at last.

"Dunno – haven't given it much thought, what with N.E.W.T.s to prepare for and a war looming on the horizon and all that."

They both knew he was lying.

"Well," Harry said, pushing back his chair. "Think I'll go get my books and join you – there's an Order meeting in here in an hour and I could really use your help with Potions."

"Like I'd help you."

They both knew he would because Draco loved knowing more than Harry, particularly about Potions. If it were knowledge he could flaunt, he would share it with Harry.

Harry returned a short while later with a tottering pile of books, his wand, parchment, quill, and ink. He dumped them unceremoniously on the table and groaned.

"Least it's not Snape supervising the exam," he muttered, in what Draco had come to think of as his 'Snape voice' (a mixture of disgust, anger, and annoyance). "Even you Slytherins have to admit that he's biased enough to fail everyone but you."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, Potter, but did it ever occur to you that there might be a reason Snape's such a tight arse toward the rest of you?"

"I _know_ the reason Snape's such a tight arse toward the rest of us," Harry shot back, opening _N.E.W.T.-level Potions – A Timely Review for Those Who Haven't Been Studying for N.E.W.T.s Since First Year_. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

Draco kept himself from asking how Harry knew Snape's prejudice and what it was with difficulty. He hated it when the Gryffindor knew something he didn't. He hated it more when Harry knew he did.

"So," Harry said, his eyes running down the page in front of him. "Liquor of Clarity."

They spent the next hour studying, their books, notes, quills, and ink slowly spreading to encompass the entire table and all of the chairs around them. It was how they worked – both got so involved in their work that they lost track of the mess they were making. Draco had a feeling that Harry had never really studied this hard at Hogwarts. He wasn't sure if it was a determination to get twelve N.E.W.T.s or simply the need to prove that he could study as persistently as Draco. But Harry would go at it and wouldn't quit until Draco suggested it.

Persistent, indeed.

On this particular occasion, Draco didn't have to call quits.

Molly Weasley came bustling into the kitchen, arms weighed down with bags.

"Still at it, dears?" she asked distractedly, dropping most of the bags to the floor and drawing her wand. Various groceries began to zoom around the kitchen, putting themselves away in different cupboard and cabinets.

"There's a meeting in here in a few minutes," she told them.

"We know – we're just leaving," Harry assured her, beginning to gather up scattered papers and books.

"I'm glad to see you both working so hard," she told them, turning to face them at last with nodding approval and a tired smile. "I'm sure you'll both do wonderfully on the exams." She turned back to her work as Draco and Harry continued gathering their belongings.

"Mrs. Weasley, will Professor Snape be here tonight?" Draco asked suddenly.

"I think so, dear," she said, and to his embarrassment, Draco could hear a distinct note of empathy in her voice.

Coming from anyone else, that sort of emotion would have authorized Draco to make a derisive retort. Molly Weasley was different. Arriving at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters a month ago, Draco had planned on being properly disgusted by the Weasley family. There was certainly no love lost between himself and Ron, nor did Draco hold Mr. Weasley in any esteem. After all, the man had attacked his father in a bookstore.

But Mrs. Weasley was – well, she was like Ginny. There was certainly the Weasley red hair, the Weasley stubbornness, the Weasley yell (oh, yes, Draco had been at headquarters long enough to hear Mrs. Weasley's dulcet tones when addressing Fred and George). But there was a quality about her that drew Draco. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it felt – and he was loathed to admit it – _safe_. Draco had rarely felt protected at any time in his life, and here was a dumpy old woman who made him feel more secure than he had ever felt in his life.

Draco could understand why Harry spent so much time with the Weasleys. Having no proper family, Mrs. Weasley must have been like a mother to him.

Having been as good as orphaned a month ago by the desertion of his own father and mother, he could relate.

Relating to Harry Potter . . .

Draco sighed as he folded the last of his notes into a book. He should have been used to it by now – the Boy Who Lived had really only been such a good rival to Draco because they were so much alike. When they had first arrived at 5 Inmind St., it had been to a highly disapproving Mrs. Weasley and a rather surprised household. The house was large and housed many of the Order members who were at greater risk and needed a more permanent living situation. Sirius Black's appearance had caused quite a stir, in both Draco and Black.

_Great_, Draco had thought frantically. _Housing criminals. What the hell am I doing here_?

It taken the combined efforts of Remus Lupin, Mrs. Weasley, and Harry to keep Draco from running from the house and Sirius from throttling him.

In the end, Harry had had to sit down with Draco and do some explaining – a_ lot_ of explaining. In fact, their first night at 5 Inmind St. had been spent in explanations, questions, and the first real conversation they had had that had not degenerated into mindless bickering. Harry had told Draco all about Sirius' innocence and Peter Pettigrew, and bits about his parents and how Remus Lupin tied into everything. This had led to a lengthy discussion about what they both knew about their parents' school days, at which point Harry remembered that he didn't quite trust Draco and began asking him why he had come with Harry to begin with.

Draco had shrugged.

"I've known for a while I didn't want anything to do with You-Know-Who," he said. "I just didn't have a lot of choice – I wasn't really sure what the alternative was – I didn't know what Dumbledore was planning or if it was a good enough plan, so I didn't want to bother at first." He paused. "It was about halfway through sixth year that Snape came to me and started trying to talk me into picking a side. I didn't know, then, that he was a double agent. I mean, he's a close friend of Father's – I had kind of assumed that he was a Death Eater. But then he told me that he was a double agent and kind of left me to decide what to do with the information."

"So you decided to join the Order?" Harry asked.

"Nope, not then," Draco said. "I mean, I wasn't going to turn Snape in or anything." He gave Harry a hard look. "I'm not a rat – I respect the man and what he's doing. It started me thinking, anyway."

"So what made you decide to come?" Harry persisted.

"I honestly don't know," Draco said. "I think it was all the . . . stuff . . . that happened in the future. I guess seeing myself as a decent guy made me . . . I dunno." He paused, then bit out, "I'm better than a Death Eater, Potter. I'm _not_ a follower and never will be. I don't want to wake up every morning wondering if the man I serve is going to kill me today."

"So you came with me," Harry said. "I expect it's safer here than at Hogwarts for you, isn't it?"

"I'm not hiding, Potter!"

"I didn't say you were," Harry retorted. "But if you're to be of any use to the Order, you need to be alive." He rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Malfoy! What's the big secret? Hogwarts _is_ pretty safe – you could have waited to join the Order until after graduation."

Draco knew there was no good come back to this attack, so he thought seriously for a moment, came to an answer he didn't like, and tried to explain.

"It's like this," he said. "Remember what I said about seeing myself in the future?"

"Sure."

"Well, every time I try to think about it, it becomes a bit more vague. I mean, I can remember most of it still, but it gets hazy round the edges. It's almost like remembering a vivid dream now."

"So it's not just me!" Harry cut in with a sigh that was clearly relieved. "I've been feeling exactly the same way, but I thought maybe it was just my memory not being the best."

"And can you remember later bits more clearly?" Draco asked, leaning forward with narrowed eyes.

"Sure – right now, from about Bath onward is still perfectly clear, but anything before that is sort of patchy."

"Right," Draco went on. "So along with this weird memory gap thing, which started – for me, anyway – shortly after we left Dumbledore's office, came this really bizarre . . . fuck, I don't know! It's like a – like a nudge. It's like I'm being fed instructions. No, not quite – it's more like this little voice pops into my head and says, 'Draco, old boy, it might be a good idea right here to do _this_' and I feel like it might be right . . . so I do it."

"So the voices in your head told you to come with me," Harry said. His lips were twitching.

"Are you _laughing_ at me, Potter?" Draco demanded dangerously.

"Absolutely not," Harry said, allowing a slow smile onto his face. "The voices have been talking to me as well."

Despite the smile, Draco could tell that he was telling the truth.

"Anything specific?" he asked.

Harry looked uncomfortable.

"It's been building since we left Dumbledore's office," he said quietly. "Something is going to happen and it's going to be up to me to make the right choice."

"Something to do with the conception of your son in a month or two?" Draco asked pointedly.

Harry turned a bit pink.

"Probably," he admitted. "It's not specific, but . . . " He leaned suddenly toward Draco, his expression pained. "Malfoy, what if I don't remember Cedric and the voices are trying to tell me something but I don't know what it means?"

Draco tried – he really did. But the grin was impossible to bite back.

"What?" Harry demanded, looking put out.

"It's just – the voices," Draco said with a cough to hide a bark of laughter. "We're hearing _the_ _voices_ and wondering if _the voices _are telling us anything important and . . ."

"It is a bit ridiculous," Harry agreed, his expression relaxing into a reluctant chuckle. The seriousness permeating the air had lessened a bit.

Draco would never admit it, but he had seen a very new side of Harry Potter that night a month ago. It was the final piece of the other boy that had utterly shattered Draco's formerly cherished image of his as an attention-seeking boy hero. Harry wasn't.

_Well_, Draco admitted grudgingly, _except maybe the hero bit_.

The idea soured his mood.

"Scowling at the wall won't turn it into a door, Malfoy," Harry pointed out.

Draco started and realized that if Harry hadn't spoken, he might have missed the door entirely; he had been so caught up in reverie.

"Sod off," he advised Harry for the second time that evening.

As he glared at Harry's retreating back, Draco's mind wandered back to his friend's comment earlier that evening - _"I don't think I'll ever love anyone like I love her and I don't know why!"_

They were both losing their memories – they had comparing notes almost daily and found bits of former events fading steadily. The only way they were able to follow the fading occurrences at all was by comparing their remaining memories, because they seemed to retain different details. For instance, Harry could remember the people involved in greater detail, whereas Draco seemed better able to remember places.

By the time they realized that the memories wouldn't merely fade, but seemed doomed to vanish, it was too late to record most of it. Draco had tried writing down everything he could think of relating to the event, and had kept a notebook in his pocket in case a memory suddenly came into his head. The trouble was, not only were the remaining memories fleeting, at best, but the notes seemed to be vanishing. He would write a note, slip his notebook back into his pocket, and when he would take it out again, the pages were blank, as though nothing had been written.

Draco's first impulse was to suspect Harry. After all, he and Harry spent the chief of their days together, and Harry saw Draco writing in the little book almost every day. Plus, they had been enemies so long, that it was really just force of habit. It didn't take Draco long to dismiss the idea, though. Harry wasn't any good at being sneaky, to begin with. Draco knew that he was often up late at night, unable to sleep, because Harry would try to get up and leave the room without making noise and would invariably trip over something on the floor, collide with his bed, or Draco's, or both, or not turn the door handle all the way and stub his toe on the door, eliciting much foul language and consistently waking Draco, who would tell him to shut the hell up whilst sniggering helplessly into his pillow. If Harry had been the one sabotaging Draco's notebook, the only possible time for him to do it would be at night. And since Draco slept with the notebook under his mattress and Harry couldn't go two feet in the dark without making a terrific racket, it simply wasn't possible that he could successfully steal Draco's notebook without Draco being aware of it.

So what _was_ happening to his notes? After dismissing Harry as a suspect, Draco told him about it.

"Why haven't you let me see them?" was Harry's first question. Draco was amused at the hurt in his voice.

"Would you let me read your journal?" he retorted. "Anyway, it's not like anything stays in there long enough to be read. I write something down and an hour later it's gone."

Harry looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "Okay, try this. The next time you've a memory, write it down and then check on it every fifteen minutes."

"Why?" Draco demanded skeptically.

"I have an idea . . ." Harry said, rubbing his chin and furrowing his dark brows in a ridiculous way. "Just do it."

Annoyed at the cryptic reply, but undeniably curious, Draco did. A few hours after this exchange, they were tidying up their attic bedroom (under sharp order from Mrs. Weasley that it was to be _kept_ clean, was that clear?) when Draco was seized with a brief illumination of memory.

_Someone came forward and stood between he and Harry, withdrawing his wand from his pocket. Tapping Harry's head, he muttered an incantation before quickly transferring the wand to the top of Draco's head. An instant later, someone gasped as Harry's hair leapt from his head, leaving him totally bald. An instant later, Draco's did the same. The wigs floated over the boy – _yes, it was a boy_ – who was still standing between them, and then supplanted themselves atop each boy's head. _

Draco gasped, his hands flying to his head.

"Oh, thank _Merlin_!" he muttered, as his own thin flaxen locks met his fingers.

"What?" Harry asked, glancing up from his wardrobe, which he had been attempting to organize.

Ignoring him, Draco whipped out his self-inking quill and pad of parchment and wrote down the images. With them came the memory of a dark alley and a group of people standing around him and Harry.

By the time he had finished jotting it all down, Harry had moved to stand beside his elbow and was reading what he wrote.

_In a dark alleyway, with two shops with dirty windows on either side, a group of people stand around watching three others who are grouped together between them. The boy in the middle is holding a wand, which is touching the head of a dark-haired boy, Potter. The boy in the middle taps Potter's head and then transfers his wand to the head of the blond on the other side, me. Our hair rises into the air, floats through the air above the boy in the middle, and then Potter's hair lands on my head and mine on his._

_People I recognize: Potter, me._

"I remember that," Harry said vaguely, his brow wrinkling in deep thought. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "Cedric – the boy who switched our hair – he's my son!"

"Do you remember who was standing around us?" Draco asked eagerly, his quill ready. The neat thing about them remembering different things was that if one of them got going, the other usually started to remember different things about the same event.

"Yes . . ." Harry said, squinting at the paper. "Yes . . . Ginny was there, watching. And Blaise."

Draco scribbled down their names.

"And – three others . . ." Harry paused, then cursed in frustration. "Damn it! I don't remember."

"Think!" Draco urged. "The four of us were there – that makes some sense, since Dumbledore found the four of us in the Astronomy Tower and I'm pretty sure we weren't up there having an orgy."

Harry looked revolted at the idea.

"Moving on," Draco prompted impatiently.

Harry bit his lip.

"Son . . . _my_ son . . ." he mumbled. "_Something _about that . . ." He trailed off. Then he brightened. "My daughter. My daughter was there as well! I don't remember her name, but she was one of the others standing around. And . . . and the others were friends of hers, I'm sure they were!"

"Any names?"

"Nope."

"Good enough for now, I suppose," Draco murmured, scribbling a bit more before closing the notebook.

"Give it fifteen minutes and then look again," Harry instructed, going back to the wardrobe with an absent expression on his face.

Fifteen minutes had never lasted so long, but Draco stuck it out, mostly because he had seen Harry's hunched prove more than once to be right over the last month at 5 Inmind Street.

When at last the clock on the wall said the time was up, Draco dove for his pillow, on which the pad of parchment sat, Harry right behind him. Draco opened it and they both stared in amazement.

It was like looking at a paragraph throughout which words had been erased or partially erased. Every word was slightly faded, as though it had been written years ago, rather than minutes.

"Weird," Draco said, gazing down at the writing.

"I thought so," Harry murmured, looking vaguely satisfied.

"Care to enlighten me?"

"Sure." Harry took the book from his hands, and the quill, and went through methodically circling the spots where a word was almost completely faded away. "One thing I _do_ remember is that we're dealing with time, and the future. I've always known it, even when I couldn't remember how, who was involved, or _why_. Look at this sentence now."

Draco took the parchment back and read the paragraph.

_In , with with dirty windows on either side, ­­­­­­­­­­­ people stand around watching others who are grouped together between them. The in the middle is holding a wand, which is touching the head of a . The in the middle taps the head of the and then transfers his wand to the head of the on the other side. hair rises into the air, floats through the air above , and lands on the heads of . _

_People I recognize, me_

_Others, Potter's daughter, two others _

"People are missing – except me," Draco said. "And the specific place. Why?"

"I think the only reason you're still there is that you would remember yourself above anyone else because you were seeing the whole scene from your own perspective," Harry said thoughtfully. "As far as the others . . . well, the only thing that makes sense to me is that the future is always in motion, isn't it?"

"Sure."

"So, every act in the present alters the future," Harry persisted. "So every time you or I or anyone do anything, we nudge the future in a certain direction."

"Right."

"So whatever we had to do with the future is probably already changing every day that we move into the future!" Harry looked excited. "Think about it. Between the time you had that memory and the space of fifteen minutes, certain things faded from the paper. Is it because those things you wrote down become less and less likely with every passing second because we're influencing the future differently?"

"I get it," Draco said slowly. "You're saying that since we're partially aware of whatever this future is, we're consciously making changes to whatever we originally did to create the future?"

"Exactly!" Harry actually clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"No touchy." Draco shrugged the hand off.

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly. "Caught up in the moment."

"Please don't _ever _say that in reference to you and I ever, ever again!" Draco pleaded, looking revolted.

"That's getting you back for the orgy comment earlier," Harry told him smugly.

"So, this grand temporal theory of yours," Draco prompted with a sniff of attempted disgust.

"Like I said, you got it," Harry told him. "I mean, think about it. Our awareness of the pad of parchment with reference to the future couldn't have happened if we hadn't any knowledge of the future. Just that change could mean anything. I mean, imagine what we might have been doing if we hadn't been waiting that fifteen minutes to see what would happen with the parchment."

"Yeah – we could have been done cleaning the room by now, gone down to the kitchen, had a snack, and you might have choked to death on a chicken bone . . ." Draco speculated gleefully.

"Oh, shut it," Harry said, without much ire. "Anyway, now that we're here instead, it may be that while you're making your bed, the window mysteriously blows open and tiny elves come leaping in and carry you off to their den for supper."

This pointless banter had gone on for some time, but Draco had given up writing down his memories. An hour after, they looked again and the writing had faded completely. It was disappointing, but to Draco's surprise, also a bit of a relief. He accepted the flashes of memory, and he and Harry talked them over whenever they occurred, but they left it at that.

All this flashed through Draco's mind as he followed Harry up the winding staircase of 5 Inmind Street with his arms full of books. He sighed and tried to relax his brain, which felt as though it was seizing up.

"Suppose we'll be able to listen in on the meeting?" Harry asked as they climbed.

"You know Snape and Weasley's mum set up about fifty wards," Draco shot back, hefting his load on the landing.

"But Fred and George will be in the meeting tonight – bet they'd help," Harry pursued, with his usual dogged optimism.

Harry and Draco weren't official Order members yet, so Mrs. Weasley forbade their attending meetings. She said that when they were all graduated and officially grown up, their decisions would be out of her hands. But for now, they were two boys under her charge and were therefore subject to whatever she ordained.

She gave them the benefit of the doubt during the first meeting, but when Lupin caught them lurking outside the door, Snape was called upon to help Mrs. Weasley ward off the room. It was a proceeding the greasy Potions master took inordinate pleasure in. Probably, it was thwarting Harry that pleased him so much. It didn't matter to Draco – Snape, who had rather taken charge of him since he had gone into hiding with Harry, told him all the important stuff after the meetings were over. And Draco was pretty sure Snape wasn't the only mole. Black usually pulled Harry aside shortly after the meetings, under pretense of inquiring after him. Mrs. Weasley always looked mightily suspicious, but couldn't ever catch him, or Snape, divulging anything and therefore didn't speak on the subject.

For some reason, despite their inside sources, Harry always liked to try and get an earful of the meetings. He never gave Draco a good reason for his curiosity, and Draco's guess was that the boy hero was getting stir-crazy. After all, it was usually this time of the year that he was fighting evil with Granger and Weasley, and instead, he was holed up in a pleasant house with his former nemesis.

He complained surprisingly little, all things considered.

"Oh . . . all right, then," Draco sighed, as they reached the final landing and Harry nudged their bedroom door open with his hip. "But how do you plan on speaking to the twins without Mrs. Weasley jumping down your throat? She never lets them out of her sight when they're here."

"Hey, Fred and George are like my brothers," Harry said in mock indignation. "I have every right to go down and say hello before the meeting. Anyway, if she gets suspicious," and the dark boy's voice dropped, his expression turning more serious, "we can speak to Dumbledore. I've been meaning to anyway."

"Why?" Draco asked, depositing his books on a small desk in the corner.

"Because the last time he was here, he spent a lot of time talking with Mr. Weasley and Snape after the meeting," Harry said, straightening from his own desk and looking Draco square in the eye. "And he looked worried, which isn't normal."

"A war's brewing, Potter," Draco pointed out. "And he's the head of the most competent defenders of our great country. I'd be worried, too."

"That's not what I mean," Harry said in exasperation as they headed back downstairs. "Dumbledore's been heading up the Order for a long time – since _my _parents were involved, evidently. And I've never seen him look _worried_ or get – well, get as emotional as he ever gets – except when he's talking about Hogwarts."

"You reckon Hogwarts is You-Know-Who's objective?" Draco was glad Harry couldn't see his face.

"It's always been his objective," Harry retorted. "I just thought –" He broke off suddenly, but strangely, Draco knew what he was going to say.

"You reckoned that it would be less of one without you there anymore," he guessed, feeling some of the old irritation creep back into him. "Typical, Potter. You're important, but come on! The castle was probably important long before you started there. It's Dumbledore's fortress – and everyone knows the one person You-Know-Who fears is Dumbledore. Crazy bat."

"Incredibly powerful crazy old bat," Harry corrected. "You're right. If he were to take Hogwarts and Dumbledore – although I suppose just Hogwarts would do – the confidence of the entire wizarding world would be shaken. I mean, if the most fail-safe building in Britain goes, anything could be next."

"What an irony," Draco murmured. He pursed his lips. "What do you want to bet that if You-Know-Who –"

"Voldemort – for god's sake, Malfoy, just say the name!" Harry snapped.

Draco winced, again glad that Harry, trotting down the stairs in front of him, couldn't see his face.

"Yeah, him," he resumed. "What do you want to bte that if he takes Hogwarts, he'll set up his base of operations there?"

Harry shivered, but the tone of his voice when he next spoke passed the shiver to Draco.

"He wouldn't dare."

Draco let the subject drop when they reached the ground floor, which was crowded with Order members. They knew that this particular meeting was only for members who were either inside sources or who had been with the Order from its beginning.

"Draco," a voice said at his side.

He turned and smirked up at Severus Snape (he never smiled genuinely at the man – wouldn't do to upset him, at his age).

"Professor," he said.

"Where's Potter slithered off to?" the Potions master inquired, his frown darkening as he clapped his hand briefly on Draco's shoulder.

Draco glanced around in surprise. Harry had been next to him a second ago. When he finally spotted his friend, he had made it all the way across the room and was talking animatedly to Fred and George. He caught Draco's eye and rolled his own, nodding the Snape, whose back was mercifully turned.

"He's talking to the twins," Draco said.

Snape snorted, looking as disgusted as Harry looked. Draco bit back a smile – just as Harry had a Snape-face, Snape had a Harry-face. It was all rather comical.

"Just as well – the less I see of that pathetic waste of flesh, the better," Snape sniffed. "How are your studies going?"

"Well," Draco said. "We try to do an hour or two every day."

"With the added motivation of Mrs. Weasley breathing down your neck, I imagine." Draco saw a trace of a smile on Snape's lip.

"That certainly helps," he conceded. "But, there are advantages, too. If we study in the kitchen, we get fed."

"You watch it, boy, or you'll inflate like those oafish friends of yours," Snape warned, shaking a threatening finger at Draco.

"Friends is such a strong word," Draco muttered disgustedly.

"Isn't it?" Snape gave him a hard look. "What do you mean by becoming so friendly with Potter, boy?"

"Honestly – I couldn't help it, sir!"

Draco tried not to look helpless, but he felt it was a lost cause.

"Oh, look!" he added, after the briefest of pauses. "The meetings starting. If Mrs. Weasley finds Potter and me anywhere _near_ the door . . ."

"Spare me," Snape cut him off, with an unimpressed look. "I know you two will do everything you can to listen to those meetings."

"I don't know what you mean," and Draco walked deliberately away to Harry, who had long since given up talking with the twins and was bidding his godfather a rather pettish good-evening.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Black was saying. "You know if it were up to _me_ . . ."

"It _should_ be, as you're my legal guardian," Harry pointed out sulkily. He glanced up as Draco approached and a small smirk curled against his lips. It gave Draco a shock to realize that the expression looked more like it belonged on the blonde's face than on the brunette's.

"Well, it's been nice, Sirius, but I must dash. _Draco_ and I have so much homework, you know," with emphasis on Draco's first name, which made Draco smile, because Harry _never_ called him "Draco".

Turning back with Harry, they passed Snape as they ascended the long staircase again.

"Sirius? Severus?" Mrs. Weasley poked her head through the door of the kitchen. "Aren't you coming?"

Draco turned back and saw that both Black and Snape were watching he and Harry climb the stairs.

"After you, Black," Snape bit out, with no hint of politeness in his voice.

"I'd rather not have a traitor at my back, thank you," Black retorted, in a mock-pleasant voice.

"I'm not the one who spent twelve years in Azkaban," Snape reminded him coldly, before sweeping passed Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen.

"God, I hate him!"

Draco jumped as he and Harry spoke in unison. Harry turned back to him with a look of surprise and an unwilling smile.

"We could've turned out like them," the brunette said, shaking his head as he stared at the closed kitchen door. "Old, bitter, and partially incriminated."

"It would probably help if we could explain to people why we're suddenly on marginally pleasant turns," Draco pointed out.

"Damned if I know," Harry returned. "Let's just go with it, yeah? It would be hell living with you for months on end if we didn't get along."

"Sure," Draco said with a shrug. "So, did the twins help?"

"Oh, yes." Harry dug into his pocket and withdrew two strands of long, tan string.

"String Flossing Mints is going to help us listen to the meeting?" Draco said incredulously.

"Well, we'll have clean teeth, at least," Harry said sarcastically. "No, you git. They're pranks – sort of. New inventions of Fred and George's – Extendable Ears. You put one end in your ear and let the other hang over the banister."

"Won't they have sound-proofed the door?" Draco asked, taking a string.

"Nope," Harry said smugly. "George told me Mrs. Weasley sound-proofed a kind of mote thing around the door. So the back half of the hall is soundproof, but about a foot from the door isn't, because she wanted to be able to hear us if we tried to put our ears against the door. So there's actually a charm that increases the volume by the door. But with the extendable ears . . ."

"We won't be anywhere near the door," Draco finished, grinning in spite of himself.

"Exactly!" Harry said. "And we'll be able to hear in plenty of time if anyone comes to door. See, if we sit on the landing here, the Extendables should be long enough to reach the door."

"Wicked!" Draco got down on his stomach and stretched out on the landing.

"Budge up, Malfoy." Harry settled in beside him.

"No touchy," Draco mumbled, sticking the Extendable Ear into his ear and letting the end fall away. It was the perfect length and fell into the foot-wide gap in front of the door.

". . . SNAPE'S REPORT –"

The voice boomed from the ear, magnified three-fold.

"Ow! Fuck!" Draco howled, his ear ringing.

"Shut up!" Harry hissed. "What happened?" He hadn't yet lowered his own ear.

"Bloody sound-enhancing field," Draco said, sticky a finger into his ear and trying to unplug it. "Hold the string back from your ear a bit."

"No kidding." Harry smirked an 'I'm-so-much-smarter-than-you-and-would-totally-never-have-done-that-myself' sort of smirk. It was the kind of expression that, in former days, had made Draco wanted to scrape off his face with a blunt blade.

Now he would have settled for a rusty spoon.

"– in the best interest of the school." That sounded like Dumbledore.

"I heard he stole a Time-Turner," came George Weasley's voice.

"I find it amusing how rumors spread and tend to exaggerate themselves," came Dumbledore's placid voice, although Draco was sure that his bloody eyes were sparkling. Draco could hear the sparkle go somewhat out of them with his next words. "Which brings us to the original point. Severus, has Voldemort taken the bait?"

Draco winced at the name and was sure that half the assembled Order had as well.

"I cannot say," Draco's godfather said slowly. "I would like to think so, but with Draco's simultaneous disappearance –"

"Speculation?" came the short, clipped voice that Draco recognized only too clearly as Mad-Eye Moody's.

"He might – and I say _might_ with some hesitation as it is – have believed Potter's expulsion to be genuine and that he really has returned to his aunt and uncle's, where he is known to have some protection," Snape said, and Draco could hear the grimness in his tone. "But with Draco's disappearance coinciding perfectly, I'm sure he suspects that they have been taken into protective custody and I'm quite sure he thinks you're behind it, Albus."

"I'm afraid it is my fault," Dumbledore said, heavily. "When young Malfoy asked to accompany Harry and accept his own expulsion for his part in Harry's adventure –"

"Oh, so now they're calling it _your_ adventure," Draco hissed at Harry. "That's nice."

"I'm getting the blame for it, git," Harry hissed back. "Shut up!"

"– thought it wouldn't hurt and recognized some change in the boy that quite struck me," Dumbledore went on.

"Change in a Malfoy," Moody murmured, although with the amplified sound, Draco heard it perfectly. "As likely as Voldemort turning himself over to you, Albus."

"That's enough, Alastor!"

Draco was surprised to hear Molly Weasley's voice cut the venerable Auror off sharply.

"Draco's a fine boy," Mrs. Weasley said. "And I'll thank you to speak politely of him in this house. There is very definitely something different about him and I can say, having known his father when he was that age, there is little likeness."

There was a moment's heavy silence.

"I agree with Molly," Arthur Weasley spoke up, to Draco's continued wonder and incredulity. "Alastor, I work with Lucius Malfoy. I know very well what he is and how he operates. Draco tries, bless him, but he's –"

"Far more like his mother," Snape cut in quietly. "Narcissa was never quite able to pretend to be what she wasn't, either."

Another moment of silence.

"But surely the boys are quite safe here," came Arabella Figg's deep voice. "This is headquarters. You-Know-Who's about as likely to find this place as he is to break into Hogwarts."

"It is Hogwarts that concerns me," Dumbledore said quietly. "Severus, would you tell the Order what you told me before the meeting, please?"

"Certainly, Albus," Snape said smoothly. "The fact of the matter is this. The Dark Lord is fairly convinced, as I said, that Albus has Potter and Draco in protective custody. Where better to protect them than Hogwarts? They are under the watch of Albus and at least five other members of the Order at all times."

"How does he explain their expulsion?" came the voice of Bill Weasley, who had come up from London to hear the meeting. Harry had told Draco that the eldest Weasley wasn't able to come often.

"Simply a diversion, so that attention will be focused upon tracking them down outside of school," Snape said.

"Do you think he's planning to attack _Hogwarts_, Snape?" Moody demanded.

"I do."

The simple phrase sent the room into a fearful hush. Draco turned and met Harry's wide-eyed stare.

"But – but he'd never –" Harry faltered. "He fears Dumbledore, above anyone else. Hogwarts is practically impenetrable."

"Hush." Draco dragged his attention back to the meeting.

"– all measures will be taken to protect the students, of course," Molly Weasley said at last.

"Indeed they will," Dumbledore said, and Draco heard a sorrowful note in his voice that made his insides go cold.

"What are you going to do, sir?" Fred Weasley asked, and Draco could hear the foreboding apprehension in his voice that meant that he knew something unpleasant was about to be said.

"Starting tomorrow, we are evacuating the school," Dumbledore said heavily.

"_What?_"

The voice made Draco jump, because it came from Harry, who was right beside him.

"Jesus, Potter, keep your voice down!"

"They can't!" Potter went on, heedless of Draco. "They _can't_!"

" – sir, don't do it!" Draco heard Fred Weasley say mutinously.

"You know how much I love the school, Fred," Dumbledore said gently. "But I love the students within it far more and if Hogwarts is to be a target, I wish it to be an empty one."

"But how can you possibly do it without it becoming evident that the school's being emptied, sir?" Bill Weasley asked, sounding doubtful, but not particularly upset. Clearly, he saw the logic of it, as Draco was already beginning to. Although a massacre of an entire population of students would certainly raise the less active wizarding populace into a state of fury and action, it would also mean martyring of three hundred or so students. Dumbledore might have been insane, but the Dumbledore Draco knew and was perpetually annoyed by would never allow something like that, no matter what the reward.

He rolled his eyes. He'd have to explain all that over again to Harry later, since the git didn't have enough logic in his thick skull to choke an ant.

" – not as difficult as it might seem," Dumbledore was saying when Draco tuned back in. "I believe it will be best if most of the students are temporarily confined to safe houses located around the country. And although I would, under most other circumstance, not wish to stereotype my students, I'm afraid it should be done according to parental affiliation and Houses."

"Of course it should!" Fred Weasley piped up ('figures,' Draco thought sourly). "Half of Slytherin House has a Death Eater for a parent, at the very least."

"Perhaps it would interest you to know, Mr. Weasley, that ten Ravenclaw's, six Hufflepuffs, and two Gryffindors have similar familial associations," Snape said, his voice colder than Draco had ever heard.

"And Slytherin – surprise, surprise – still tops the chart with twenty-five," George Weasley cut in, his voice as cold and quite clearly demonstrating his resent of any slight to his brother. "So, Professor," and the change in his tone suggested that he was now speaking to Dumbledore, "how do you plan to do it?"

"It will be a simple operation, I hope," Dumbledore said, not commenting on the verbal jousting that had been going on moments before. Draco assumed the old man recognized the futility. "Because any of those students might be targeted at any time, they will be under the heaviest guard and will be put into Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall's care. They will be unconscious during their transport so that, should any of them choose to leave or somehow be taken, they will not be a danger to their classmates." Dumbledore's voice was hard, as if sending a silent message to any potential threats to his students that they'd better not try anything.

"And the other students?" Sirius Black asked, his voice grim.

"A few, whose parents are members of the Order, will be brought to Headquarters for protection or until their parents decide to move them," Dumbledore said. There was a pause, then, "There is also a suggestion I wished to make; I had hoped that you would all agree to house some of the higher-risk children of Death Eaters here at headquarters."

The uproar this caused nearly deafened Draco and he saw Harry jerk back from his own Extendable Ear.

"Steady on!" the Gryffindor grumbled, glaring at his earpiece, from which Draco could discern a high-pitched whine, similar to the noise his own Extendable was making.

"So much for saving the children," Draco muttered, feeling a swell of indignation toward the adults below. "What're they so worked up about? They're granting _me_ asylum here and my dad's probably the most dangerous Death Eater they have to contend with."

"Well, you're just one bloke, aren't you? There're somewhere in the neighborhood of forty children of Death Eaters in Hogwarts. Figure at least half of them are high-risk. That's twenty additional kids wandering around 5 Inmind," Harry pointed out. "If any of them got stir-crazy and decided to make a break for it, they could land Order HQ in serious trouble."

"So guilty until proven innocent, then?" Draco demanded, anger replacing the indignation. "Potter, they're kids! They're going to be scared, and if you send them home – well, I think you know bloody well what will happen to them."

"Listen, Malfoy –"

"No, _you_ listen, Potter!" he snapped. "They may be Slytherins, but _you _should know that most of them can be brave when they need to, just as most of them can be scared out of their minds. Wouldn't _you_ be?"

"Of course, but –"

"If you put those twenty in with the other students, _all_ of them, including the other students, will probably be slaughtered."

"_What_?" Harry demanded, turning right around to look at him for the first time.

"You-Know-Who is paranoid about his followers," Draco said sharply. "Either he has a guarantee that the entire family is behind him or he'll destroy that family."

"What about your dad?" Harry asked, with some trepidation.

Draco shrugged.

"My dad _might_ get off with some form of punishment," he said, his voice rather hollow. "You-Know-Who knows that after what I've done, my father wouldn't think twice about killing me if he met me. Who knows? They might even be planning to use me somehow to get to you."

"How would they do that?" Harry wanted to know, his voice grim.

"Look, I'm sure Dumbledore's taken every precaution –"

"_How_, Malfoy?"

"Keep your hair on! I'm sure your precious self is perfectly safe –"

"It's not _me_ I'm worried about, Draco!" Harry barked.

They both froze – first in surprise, then to listen and make sure none of the adults had heard anything. Silencing charms only worked in one direction, and although Harry and Draco couldn't hear anything that was happening in the meeting, those in the meeting could hear anything that they would normally be able to hear from the kitchen.

"Listen," Harry went on at last, taking a slow breath, "it isn't me – it's everyone else in the house, and – well," he paused, biting his lip, then sucked it up and went on in what sounded to Draco like mild exasperation, "Look, Malfoy, you're my friend, and I don't want to see anything happen to you, either. If you _are_ in any danger, Dumbledore or someone here at HQ needs to know about it."

Draco took a deep breath as well, unwillingly touched by the reluctant concern his new friend had for his well being. It was a first, really, for although he and his comrades in Slytherin always stood up for each other against other Houses, everyone was fair game without the boundaries of Slytherin House. Having someone watching his back unconditionally was very new and, though he would never have admitted it, very comforting.

"I know that You-Know-Who connects the Dark Mark directly to the blood of the recipient," he said at length, his voice lower and his anger gone as quickly as it had come. "That means that there is probably some connection to the rest of the family as well. It's a brilliant scheme, really, because then he has some control over the entire family, to some extent. What that control is, I don't know."

"It's probably not effective within the Fedelious Charm," Harry said thoughtfully, his own voice quiet.

"What?" Draco stared at him. Harry had his "off in Harry-land" face firmly in place, which meant real trouble for Draco as far as comprehension was concerned.

Harry blinked, and shook his head. "Oh, I was just thinking that the only way in the world that Dumbledore would allow you into Order headquarters was if you were under Fedelious." He paused, and stared at Draco in his unnervingly intense way. "Dumbledore _did_ give you a Secret Keeper, right?"

"Sure," Draco said blankly. A moment later, he cottoned on. "And since those under Fedelious are Unplottable, you don't think blood bonds of any kind would work, at least as far as tracking me through my father."

Harry shrugged.

"Stands to reason."

"So why not do that with all the other kids who come to stay, too?" Draco asked impatiently. "Then even if they _did _decide to bolt it wouldn't matter because no one would be able to find or really see then except their Secret Keeper."

"Well, it's not easy to find people trustworthy enough to carry the Secret, is it?" Harry said, sounding annoyingly as though he thought he was stating the obvious. "Finding _twenty_ people is probably impossible. And it's only possible for a person to be Secret Keeper for one other person or place at a time."

"I know how Fedelious works, Potter," Draco snapped. "But isn't HQ protected by Fedelious?"

"Sure," Harry said. "It's not _here_ that the bother starts. It's if any of them run, for some reason. Then they _aren't_ protected by Fedelious."

Draco sank into a sulky silence. It wasn't often – in fact, it was almost _never_ – that Harry out-thought him. Draco grimaced to himself – he didn't even have a good excuse for his anxiety regarding his Housemates, which was, ultimately, the reason for his inability to think logically. It wasn't as though he had any real _friends_ within Slytherin.

But, he realized, he didn't have any enemies, either. And anyone who wasn't an enemy at this point was one more person _not_ hunting Draco down.

Harry had his Extendable in place again and was listening. The high-pitched keening was now gone and Draco was able to listen without a migraine coming on.

" - any other choice," Dumbledore said. His voice appeared to be cutting off those of a good many other people, most of whom were probably arguing. "Those children _must_ be protected, and if our headquarters are to safest place, so be it. We will implement measures to keep them from hurting others or themselves by – rash action."

There was a moment of silence, and Draco heard Harry sigh heavily. Draco kept himself from snapping at the Boy-Who-Lived – loathed as he was to admit it, the Gryffindor had valid reason to be concerned.

"If there is nothing else of importance this evening," Dumbledore said heavily, "our meeting is adjourned."

Draco heard the screeching of chairs and yanked his Extendable Ear up and over the landing. Harry had already done so beside him and silently, the Gryffindor sprinted up the stairs to their bedroom. Once there, they pulled on their pajamas and crawled into bed. Draco flicked his wand at the lights, which flickered and went out just as footsteps sounded in the hallway outside. An instant later, a wedge of light spilled through their doorway as Mrs. Weasley poked her head in.

"Oooh, aren't they _precious_?" came the quietly mocking voice of one of the blasted twins.

"Ickle angels, aren't they, Mum?" said the other, in a voice that made Draco very much want to throw something heavy in their direction.

"Don't you two start," Mrs. Weasley said sharply. "I know you helped them listen to the meeting tonight and if I _ever_ find out how, you'll both rue the day . . ."

"Whoa, keep your hair on!"

"We've done nothing – why are _we_ always the suspects? Why not Bill or Charlie?"

"It's as though she doesn't _trust_ us, George!"

"You two . . ." Mrs. Weasley's voice was quite intimidating and Draco was glad that he was tucked up in bed and not under fire. He heard the bedroom door shut and the sounds of retreating footsteps and voices.

"Potter . . . psst! Potter!"

"What?" Harry said. Draco saw his shadow hitch in the dark as Harry rolled over and propped himself on his elbows.

"Close call."

"Indeed – although because it's Mrs. Weasley, the twins would have taken all the blame for 'corrupting innocent children'."

Draco snorted.

"The bloody twins cut up a lot of pranks, but they weren't expelled, were they?"

"It's kind of annoying that we can't actually remember why we were expelled, though." Harry chuckled ruefully, but there was no bitterness detectable in the sound as their had been at one time. He was coming to terms with expulsion, particularly since he had, since the end of his fourth year, apparently considered himself a danger to Hogwarts and being gone from the place rid him of some of that guilt. Plus, he enjoyed sharing the blame, though they no longer knew what for, with Draco.

"So," Draco said, when Harry didn't respond to his last comment beyond the chuckle. "If they _are_ evacuating the students . . . well, Blaise is high-risk."

"And basically all of Ginny's family lives and works at HQ," Harry retorted.

"All I'm saying," Draco said, ignoring Harry, "is that if you don't want me in here anymore – I mean, I wouldn't want to embarrass your virgin self by overhearing anything untoward – "

A pillow hit him in the side of the head.

"Ow!"

"Ow? It was a pillow, you pillock."

"It's a _down_ pillow. One of the feathers could have punctured my scull."

"Not much in there to damage, though, is there – _oomph_!"

"So, back to you and Blaise needing this room – and probably a silencing charm – "

"Are you really that daft or did you not notice my attempt to smother you a moment ago?"

"Virginity is nothing to be ashamed of, Potter."

"I suppose you would know."

"Well, there is a time I can remember – huh, that was back in third year, though."

"Ew – don't be gross, Malfoy!"

Draco sniggered, knowing that while Harry probably didn't believe the insinuation, he was also unwillingly curious.

"Anyway," he went on, and Draco could hear him rolling over onto his back, "Mrs. Weasley would skin me alive if Blaise came within a floor of this room."

"Hello? Do you actually use your Invisibility Cloak?"

"Yeah, that would be romantic. Oh, Blaise," he intoned dramatically, "I would shag you senseless but for the fifty yards of fabric separating us."

"And that my virgin ignorance makes me totally daft when it comes to –"

"Malfoy, your obsession with my supposed virginity is kind of creepy."

"Supposed, indeed!"

"Oh, shut up. I doubt you're such an expert. You're seventeen."

"He doubts me! I shall try not to take offense."

Harry snorted incredulously and his mattress creaked again as he shifted.

"Well, wonder-shag, do me a favor a shut it while I try to get some sleep." His tone darkened. "I think we're gonna have a busy next few weeks."

"And I'm trying _very_ hard not to take _that_ the wrong way," Draco said.

He only just ducked in time to avoid Harry's copy of _N.E.W.T.-level Potions_.

**TBC**


	18. Bridging the Gap: Part 2

Potter vs. Malfoy: Bridging the Gap

By Jedi Tess of Gryffindor

Summary: Aware of the fact that her most beloved fic had in it a gaping hole, J.T. set out many months ago to make things right. Here (she hopes) is a ficlet that will satisfied any unsatisfied "War's End" readers and, indeed, finish forever the "Potter vs. Malfoy" saga.

_**A/N: I apologize without excuse for the long wait. I hope this justifies it. Definite romance, **__definite cliffy, and hopefully definite closure for this fic by Christmas. That is my goal, we'll see what happens. Also, a quick plug for my D/G fans of the revamped "__**Sometimes, I **__Even Amaze Myself" currently up on FictionAlley. I guarantee a more consistent, better fix. "Bend It" is moving slowly, due to lack of direction, plot-wise. I have the immediate plot all sorted, but have to be careful so that there's some purpose in the future and hopeful keeping with J.K.'s tone set in book 6_

_At any rate, happy reading, I love you all, and keep an eye out for X-mas fics _

_Loves!_

_J.T.___

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good – er, I mean, I own nothing. Yeah... All characters and situations taken from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter canon are solely hers. Original, non-canonical plot ideas belong to me, Tess Williams, as of August 2002, when this piece was originally begun. I intend no copyright infringement by dabbling in the Harry Potter universe!

**Part 2**

**A month later – mid-June 1998**

Harry stood tensely in the entrance hall of 5 Inmind Street and chewed his lip.

"Will you cut that out?" Draco muttered from his side. "You're bloody well making me nervous!"

"Sorry," Harry mumbled back. "Cut what out?"

"Staring at the ruddy door as though it's about to explode!" Draco snapped. "It's unnerving and annoying."

"But according to you, I'm both those things, anyway," Harry pointed out with a tight smile. "If you haven't learnt to live with it yet –"

"Oh, cork it, you prat," Draco said, kicking his ankle none too gently. "All your staring at the door isn't going to bring them any faster."

"I can't help it – they were due over an hour ago," Harry said, tapping his foot impatiently to some uneven rhythm.

"There wasn't really a set time, you know," Draco retorted irritably, obviously trying to curb his own anxiety whilst simultaneously attempting to convince himself that he wasn't anxious. "It was an estimate."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" came an annoyed voice from behind them. "You two are completely pathetic."

Harry gritted his teeth as Pansy Parkinson's distinctive voice and footstep entered the hall. He didn't turn to look at her, but was fairly sure that she was giving them both looks of scorn behind their backs.

"I suggest you jump in front of the Knight Bus, Pans," Draco said flatly. He glanced sideways at Harry with a smirk. "And take Potter with you."

"I wouldn't take Potter anywhere if my life depended on it," Pansy retorted, sounding revolted.

"Good thing, too, or Blaise would skin you alive," Harry put in blandly, eyes still trained on the door.

"I'm sure she's just using you," Pansy said for the umpteenth time. She always said it, as if trying to convince herself that her best friend wasn't mad. "I mean, she's always had such excellent taste . . . well, except for fancying Draco – not sure what that was about."

Harry snorted and could just feel Draco's pointed features arranging themselves into a scowl beside him. Harry's relationship with Blaise was something no one at Hogwarts seemed to have been aware of. Harry was sure that they hadn't been going out long before he left, but apparently, they had been keeping quiet enough that no one, apart from Ginny or Draco, had been aware of it. So when Pansy, Nott, and the other Slytherins had begun arriving, they had been shocked and disgusted to discover that Blaise seemed to be "fraternizing with the enemy". Draco's word on the matter – "Let her fuck around if she wants, Pansy" – had kept any threats, insults, or unfriendly practical jokes to a minimum, but it frustrated Harry that they were acting as though it came as a complete surprise.

Surely they hadn't been _that_ sneaky. Harry was about as good at keeping secrets – secrets about girls, anyway – as he was at wizard's chess.

"Nah, Blaise already tried to convince me she was using me," he told Pansy without turning. "She insisted she just kept me around because she needed a good shag. Then I pointed out that we weren't actually shagging . . . and she sort of ran out of steam."

Harry tried not to wince. Case in point: _why_ had he just said that?

"What – you're not shagging yet?" Draco demanded, and Harry was sure his friend was looking at him. "Get a bloody move-on, what's the holdup?"

"That's rich," was all Harry said, but he could feel the heat of Draco's glower.

"Pans, I was looking for – oh, for god's sake, are they _still_ staring at the door?"

Theodore Nott sounded as disgusted as Pansy had.

"And discussing Potter's nonexistent sex life," Pansy said, the revulsion now back in her voice.

"So that's why you're hanging around still – to hear about the countless multitudes I've been shagging lately?" Harry asked her coolly.

"Or lack thereof," Draco put in quietly.

"Hypocrite," Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Virgin," Draco hissed back.

"Hypocrite," Harry muttered again.

"Pansy, are you still standing behind us?" Draco said, and Harry could tell he was deliberately changing the subject.

"No," she said, though she clearly hadn't moved.

"Is there something you want?" Draco asked, none too politely.

"She's bored," Nott told him.

"What else is new?" Draco shot back. "If she actually helped with something around here for a change –"

"Don't talk about me as if I'm not here!" Pansy snapped loudly.

Harry rolled his eyes and tried to remember a time with 5 Inmind Street had been a quiet, peaceful place. A time before student refugees had been moved here and the house was packed with angry, fearful Slytherins (in addition to a couple of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and even a Gryffindor or two).

Despite the fact that it hadn't been even a month ago, he failed.

"Parkinson isn't in here because she's bored," Harry told Nott, ignoring Pansy's last statement. "She's worried about Blaise."

"Worried about Blaise?" Pansy repeated, as though this were the worst kind of insult. "How dare you imply that I care about that wretched twit?"

"She _is_ your best friend," Harry pointed out, feeling annoyed (not an uncommon emotion to associate with Pansy). He knew they were best friends because he'd seen them together and Blaise had told him about their friendship several times. He couldn't remember when, exactly, but he was quite sure she had.

"In Slytherin, we don't have –" Pansy began.

"- friends, yeah, yeah," Harry cut her off. "You have close enemies. Heard it before."

"From who?" Draco asked him curiously.

"I – I have no idea," Harry said blankly, thinking hard and feeling uncomfortable when he drew a complete blank.

"Blaise, probably," Draco said, shrugging it off. "Anyway, Pans, if you can't say something useful, intelligent, or at least mildly interesting, please feel free to shove off."

"Bastard," Pansy muttered, but her retreating footsteps didn't come as much of a surprise.

"That's nice – just let the rest of us deal with her for a while," Nott said, throwing himself into a chair beside Harry.

"She'll settle down when Blaise gets here," Harry said, more confidently than he felt.

"Yeah, right," Nott said sardonically. "No offense, Potter, but you've only been dating the girl a couple months. Try living with her for seven years."

Harry glanced at Draco.

"He's got a point, mate," the blonde said, shrugging again.

"And I wish you two would stop that," Nott muttered. Harry turned slightly to look at him and saw him scowling.

"What?" he said blankly.

"Pretending to be friends!" Nott snapped. "It's annoyingly optimistic."

"Who says we're pretending?" Harry demanded indignantly.

"Don't be thick, Potter," Nott shot back. "You've been enemies since your first day at Hogwarts. And then suddenly, you've found a way to get expelled together and are living all nice and cozy-like in a cottage."

"He sounds jealous, Potter," Draco said, with another tight smile. "I'm so sorry, Teddy. Did _you_ want to live with me all nice and cozy-like?"

"I'm smart enough to want as little to do with you as possible," Nott returned coolly. "You'd be wise to leave him be as well, Potter. He's a bit of a bastard."

"So Parkinson's told me." Harry turned back to the door, chewing his lip again. "What do we do if they're not here in another hour?" he said suddenly to Draco.

"What do you mean?" Draco said, sounding tense and irritable. "We can't _do_ anything as it is."

"We could – I don't know – maybe . . ." Harry cursed in frustration.

"Dumbledore's been watching all of the transfers," Draco said shortly.

"Yeah? Well, Dumbledore makes mistakes," Harry retorted, although he relaxed a bit. Dumbledore _had_ been overseeing the more dangerous transfers himself.

"He'd better not make one now," Draco muttered, his right hand fisting.

"Hey," Harry said, nudging him. "Since when are _you_ the pessimistic one?"

Draco cracked a reluctant smile.

"Don't talk rubbish, Potter –" he began, but broke off as the latch on the front door clicked.

Both boys straightened, and even Nott got to his feet beside Harry.

"Oh, is something finally happening?" Pansy demanded as she came to peer over Draco's shoulder.

The four of them watched tensely as the door swung open and five figures came hurrying into the room. Harry felt his heart sink – none of them were teenaged.

"What the devil are you all blocking the entrance hall for?" came Snape's irritable drawl.

"Waiting for their girlfriends, I expect," George Weasley said, with a weak attempt at a smile.

Harry's sinking heart took an abrupt nosedive.

"What's happened, George?" he demanded.

"Don't be a nosy prat, Potter," Snape snapped.

"Or what? A thousand points from Gryffindor?" Harry retorted darkly. "George, what's up?"

Snape pushed roughly passed Harry, pressing a hand briefly to Draco's shoulder and allowing Nott and Pansy to accompany him into the kitchen.

"Miserable bastard," George muttered.

"George, please," Remus Lupin sighed, removing a Muggle windbreaker and running a hand over his greying hair.

"He's got a fair point, you know," Nymphadora Tonks said. "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Will one of you please tell us what's going on?" Draco said in a strained tone, clearly making something of an effort to be polite. It was rather futile.

The adults regarded them for a moment. Lupin, Tonks, George, and dark-eyed wizard whom Harry did not recognize shared a meaningful glance.

"It's important to them," George said after a moment's pause. "They've a right to know."

"You'd best fill them in, then, George," Lupin said tiredly. He and the others passed into the kitchen, Lupin gripping Harry's hand briefly.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, the instant the others had disappeared through the door. "Where's the last bunch?"

"It's a long story," George said. Harry noticed that he looked unusually serious, even haggard. Whatever was up, it was enough to make George upset, and something bad enough to make _George_ upset . . .

"We've been moving the last few batches of students over the past week, as you probably know," George began, leading them into the sitting room off the entrance hall. "So far, we've moved every bunch successfully. I think eighty percent of the student body is out by now. You probably also know that the high risk kids are being moved, one at a time, with the groups of low risk kids, to keep them inconspicuous."

"Because if you were to move all of the high risk kids at once, it would probably be fairly obvious –" Harry guessed.

"Sure," George nodded. "And so far, it's worked to our advantage."

"So far," Draco repeated. He took a seat in a stiff-backed, out-of-place leather chair, looking tense.

George took a deep breath. Harry knew he didn't have any specific qualm with Draco – unlike his twin and younger brother, he could separate Draco from his family. Harry had a feeling that the deep breath was preparatory to unpleasant intelligence that he probably didn't want to think about.

"Ginny's group left first thing this morning," George said, swallowing over a gruffness in his tone. "She's considered high risk as a Weasley, but not Slytherin high risk. So one of the Slytherins – Zabini, I think – went in her group." George frowned. "From what I understand, Dumbledore insisted that they travel together." He shook his head. "Anyway, shortly after they left, Ron and Hermione's group went out." He paused for a moment, swallowing with even greater difficulty. "Neither group made it to their designated safe house."

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. His insides knotted up.

"You mean, they've –" Harry couldn't finish. An involuntary glance at Draco showed that his face was whiter than Harry's and his eyes as wide.

"Don't jump to conclusions," George said forcefully. "I said they'd vanished. But there's some good news."

"Good news?" Draco said uneasily.

"The good news," George said, taking a deep breath, "was that Dumbledore was with one of the groups. We don't know which, but there's no way that that group was harmed. The better news is that McGonagall _and_ Sirius were with the other group. So their chances of survival aren't bad."

"But – but weren't they being smuggled out unconscious?" Draco demanded.

"The high risk students were," George said with a nod. "That means if – if they came under attack or anything, there was only one or two unconscious students per group."

Harry suddenly felt like the worlds biggest git. Here he was, having a freak-out because of his girlfriend and two closest friends, while George was facing the potential loss of his younger brother _and_ sister.

"Sorry, mate," Harry muttered.

George didn't ask what he meant. He just said, "You're family, too, Harry. I know you're probably nerving out as well."

Draco suddenly got up and left the room. Harry listened to his feet as he jogged up the stairs, probably to their room. He felt an irrational stab of annoyance – it was _Draco's_ family who were putting their friends in such danger, after all.

Harry's anger vanished as quickly as it had come. He supposed if Draco had an adoptive family like the Weasley's then he, Harry, would be jealous, too. In all the ways that mattered, they were both orphans now, and while Draco hadn't known that his entire life, Harry knew enough about the Slytherin to know that he didn't have anything like the kind of parental love and support that, say, George and Ron had.

"Twitchy little git," George said, without any rancor. He slumped back into the chairs and stared unseeing at out of one of the windows in the sitting room. Harry felt a certain level of sympathy, as well he might, but he also felt his own anguish. George had a brother and sister still out there, sure, but basically _everyone_ that Harry deeply cared for had vanished. Ron and Hermione were his best friends, and he hoped they always would be. He and Ginny were close, although their transition from friends to _close_ friends was an illusive memory, he had to admit. And Blaise . . .

Harry slumped backward in his seat as well, he chest giving a dull thud of pain. He felt like a bastard for reacting more in a more physically painful way to his girlfriend's plight than to that of his best friends and, assumedly, his godfather. But then, he supposed that he was used to Ron and Hermione being in danger. He was certainly used to worrying about what horrible situation they would get dragged into next, as a result of being his friend. He certainly had similar worries for Ginny, as even a distant connection with him had nearly killed her during her first year. And Sirius . . . Harry couldn't help smiling. His relationship with Sirius had involved nothing but anxiety. Why should this particular situation be any different?

But Blaise . . . he couldn't remember a time when they had ever been in a danger together. He had left Hogwarts, he had spent a month thinking it completely secure – he had missed her, but until overhearing Dumbledore's speech at the Order meeting, he had never associated Blaise and "being in danger". What was worse was that she was in danger and he could do nothing. Ron and Hermione and Ginny were in danger as well, but they had been in danger without him there to take care of them, hadn't they?

'_So is that it?'_ he wondered suddenly. Did he not trust her to take care of herself? As far as he knew, she was a very capable person. How he knew this, he wasn't sure, but in any case, he _knew._

"Harry?" George's voice said into his troubled thoughts.

Harry blinked and glanced over at him. The fourth oldest Weasley was watching him closely.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, running a hand over his forehead. "Just thinking . . ."

"Don't hurt yourself," George said with a faint smile. He got to his feet and stretched. Harry could see the strain on his face and in his eyes, but he had grown up a lot in the last couple of years in the Order and he seemed to have excellent control of himself and his unease.

"I'm going to poke my head in and see if anything's changed."

"Later," Harry said, and George waved over his shoulder as he left.

Harry sat staring out of the same window that George had been favoring for a long time.

**)WE(**

Ginny blinked through the wall of rain, hoping her eyes were deceiving her. Sadly, they weren't. Slightly to the left sat 4 Inmind Street. On the right sat 6 Inmind Street. Neither of them looked nearly big enough to house any sort of headquarters, never mind those of the strongest underground resistance movement in wizarding history.

"Er – Professor?" she called cautiously over the rain. "What exactly are we looking for?"

Dumbledore smiled ever so faintly. Shifting the bundle in his arms, he reached into a pocket of his trench coat (which, Ginny thought, made him look even more eccentric than his usual robe ensemble) and handed a small scrap of paper across to her.

"Read, memorize, and drop this," he told her firmly. "_Do not_ repeat it aloud."

Ginny read the small, loopy letters carefully.

"_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number Five, Inmind Street._"

Ginny stared at the words. What did they mean? There _wasn't _a Number Five, Inmind St. In fact, Numbers Four and Six were so close together that sitting a tent between them seemed unlikely.

"Do you have it memorized?" Dumbledore said, a note of urgency in his voice. No wonder, too, for his load was heavy and the rain was adding at least ten pounds to their clothing. Never mind that they were probably being tailed.

"Yes," Ginny told him, taking a last good look at the paper before dropping it. The instant it hit the ground, it seemed to dissolve in the gushing water at her feet.

"All right, then," Dumbledore said. "Speak each word clearly and distinctly in your mind."

Ginny shrugged, screwed up her face, and thought, "_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number Five, Inmind Street_ –"

The last words were barely out of her mind, when a large house suddenly blossomed up between Numbers Four and Six. It looked as though it must have been crushing the tattered walls of both Four and Six, but there was no indication that either house's inhabitants (if there were any) noticed the change.

"Hurry," Dumbledore commanded, ushering her ahead of him toward the house, which had a large brass "5" to the left of it's massive white door. Ginny skipped up the steps, her heart hammering with adrenaline and nerves. Not only were they finally going to be safe, but she would be seeing her family again.

_And Draco_, a part of her mind pointed out helpfully.

Hands trembling from cold, she grasped the handle and turned.

The entrance hall was empty, but the warmth wrapped itself around Ginny like a blanket. She doubted it was actually that warm – after all, it was summer, so there probably wasn't a fire. But she was soaked clean through, and the lack of rain drilling through her parka was a relief.

"Who the devil –"

George came hurrying through from what appeared to be the kitchen, a dishtowel in his hand. He promptly dropped it.

"Ginny!" he breathed, and before she could take another breath or even smile, George had her in a bare hug.

"Everyone!" he bellowed. "Ginny's back!"

"Oh, dear," Dumbledore said mildly, as what sounded like a small stampede shook the house. He sounded thoroughly relieved and Ginny couldn't help grinning broadly. She hadn't heard much amusement in his voice during their trip.

"Ginny? Oh, thank Merlin, thank _Merlin_!" her mother cried hysterically, running in from the kitchen in a rare show of speed and pulling her away from George, who just had time to ruffle her hair before she vanished into her mother's ample bosom.

"Mum, you're suffocating her!" George laughed, as they were joined by Bill and Professor Lupin.

"You had us in a right state, kiddo," Bill said soberly, tugging her far enough from their mother to put his arms around her and pull her against him.

Another racket overhead made everyone look up. Harry and Draco were barreling down the stairs at breakneck speed.

"Ginny!" Harry said, and although he looked glad to see her, he looked anxious. "Ginny, thank god!"

He scooped her into his arms in a hug that was almost too tight. He set her on her feet and then glanced apprehensively over her shoulder.

"She's in there," she assured him, nodding toward the opening that Dumbledore had vanished through shortly after George's entrance.

"I – thanks, Gin," he said quietly. "Is – are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, squeezing his hand.

He gave her a small smile, before vanishing into the sitting room.

"You look it, Weasley."

Ginny glanced up at Draco, who was leaning on the banister with his arms crossed, trying not to look relieved or jealous. Ginny couldn't figure out why she could read him so well, or why she wanted to kiss him . . . again . . .

"Draco," she said deliberately, with a crooked smile. Gods, but she was glad to see him! "Don't you want to give me a hug?" she added wickedly, eyeing his designer robes and wondering why he bothered when he and Harry had been shut up in Headquarters for so long.

"And damage these robes?" was the predictable answer. "You're soiled, Weasley! Perhaps when you've boiled yourself –"

"Draco!" Ginny's mum said sharply.

Ginny shook her head, smiling stretching her cheeks. She was sure that two months ago, he would have been hexed for a comment like that. Now, it simply made her smile. Without a word, she stepped forward and put her arms around him.

"Ginny!" Bill and George said, trying to sound thoroughly scandalized.

Ginny felt Draco stiffen for a moment and she could feel water from her parka and jeans soaking into his thin robe. After a moment, he leaned hesitantly forward and put his arms around her briefly. It was a momentary reflex and Ginny felt his cheek rest briefly against the top of her head. Then he quickly pulled away. Ginny was delighted to see that she had saturated the entire front of his robes.

"Now look what you've done," he grumbled, staring down at himself in disgust.

"Come on, Draco, it's not like you haven't got five of the same robe upstairs," a voice jibed from the stairs.

"Shut up, Nott!" Draco said, sticking his nose in the air. "Each of my robes is specially tailored."

"Yeah, yeah," Theodore Nott muttered, with a lopsided smile. The expression was short-lived, as he was shoved aside by Pansy and Millicent.

"Where is she, Weasley?" Pansy demanded without preamble.

"Whomever do you mean, Parkinson?" Ginny said innocently, relishing her turn at smiting obnoxious Slytherins.

"You know damn well!" Millicent said fiercely.

"Millicent!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply. "That's quite enough. Your friend is in the sitting room with Harry and Professor Dumbledore."

Grumbling apologies half-heartedly to Mrs. Weasley and sending nasty looks in Ginny's direction, they hurried (trying to look as though they weren't hurrying) into the next room.

"Ginny, dear, you're dripping wet!" Mrs. Weasley said, bustling over and putting a strong arm round her shoulders. "Go upstairs and have a warm bath, and I'll fetch some tea. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Ginny said, gratefully leaning into her mother's embrace for a moment.

"As soon as your bath is done, you hop into bed and I'll bring you something to eat," Mrs. Weasley said, kissing her cheek. "Draco can show you were the lavatory is. I'm afraid this house isn't very large, so you'll be sleeping with the other girls in the master bedroom."

"Other girls?" Ginny said, with a sinking feeling in her gut.

"Don't worry, Weasley," Draco said, smirking. "Just Millie and Pans and a few others."

Ginny glared at him.

"Almost makes me wish I was still battling a rainstorm," she muttered.

"Don't be silly, dear," her mother said chidingly. "They're perfectly . . . nice young women and so are you. Anyway," she added in a sharper tone, with looks for both Draco and Ginny, "it isn't as though you've got house rivalries to think of, is it?"

"No, mum," they both muttered.

"Now, Draco, you take her upstairs and run a bath with some of those juniper bubbles under the sink," Mrs. Weasley said.

Draco waited until her back was turned to give Ginny a very suggestive look. Ginny gave him a not-at-all gentle nudge, before pushing passed him up the stairs, trying to ignore the abrupt, inexplicable wave of déjà vu that she was feeling. His suggestive look, and position on the stairs . . . Ginny blinked, trying to remember whatever it was that had stirred her reaction, but nothing came to mind.

"We'd best keep an eye on him, Bill," George said from the foot of the stairs, his overloud voice cutting off Ginny's reverie.

"He'll mind himself," Bill said, laughing as Draco turned a nasty look in their direction. "I don't think he fancies all seven of Ginny's big brothers breathing down his neck."

"Ignore them," Ginny advised, suppressing a giggle. "Anyway," she added, recollecting herself, "it's not as if they've anything to protect me from. We're not dating and it's not as though you're interested in me."

"No kidding," Draco said, after a minute, almost unnoticeable pause. Clearing his throat, he said, "You don't have seven brothers."

"They're talking about Harry," Ginny said, shaking her head. "He might as well be my brother."

To her surprise, Draco didn't respond. At the first landing, Ginny took advantage of drawing level with him and looked at his face. He didn't look angry so much as upset. It wasn't his expression, which remained stoic and a bit contemptuous, but his eyes were stirring with something that, again, made Ginny feel as though they had experienced a similar situation before.

She didn't speak again until they reached the bathroom door.

"Bollocks!" she said. "I haven't any dry clothes."

"Or clean ones," Draco pointed out, the trouble leaving his eyes as they crinkled with amusement. "What _did_ you lot get up to?"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" Ginny said haughtily, pushing passed him into the lavatory and flipping on the light. It was a surprisingly large room. The bathtub stood on clawed feet just under the window, and looked large enough to fit Hagrid comfortably. Ginny let out a sigh of contentment and pulled her sodden parka over her head. It actually made a plopping sound as it hit the tiled floor.

It was then that she realized that Draco was still standing in the doorway, and she felt a hot flush rise up her neck.

"Oh, no, don't stop on _my_ account," he said. Ginny didn't dare turn for fear that he would see her face, but she could hear the amused leer in his tone.

"That's really okay," she said. "On your way out, would you mind fetching that bubble bath mum mentioned and setting on the sink?"

"But she wanted _me _to draw your bath," Draco pointed out, his voice decided dangerous.

Ginny stiffened, partly in anticipation and partly in self-disgust at such a reaction on his behalf. Before she could object, however, he had pulled the blue bottle from beneath the sink and moved to sit on the generous rim of the tub. Crossing his legs casually, as though he did this every day, he curled his fingers round the hot water tap and cranked it open. Then he twirled open the cap of the bubble bath and dribbled some of the green liquid into the flow of water.

Ginny realized that her mouth was hanging open and her face was still burning.

_Oh, Merlin – I'm turned on by him running a bath_, she thought, feeling mortified.

"Not that that wasn't something I could have done for myself," she snapped, planting her hands on her hips and determining that if he was going to be a prat, she wasn't going to show that it was having any effect on her.

"But you must be so tired," he said softly, setting the bottle on the rim of the tub and standing. He moved slowly toward her.

"I'm not . . . tired," she protested, biting her lip as he advanced. It wasn't a predatory move, but a seductive one. Something about it both excited Ginny and put her at her ease. She was quite sure she wasn't used to feeling that sort of safety with Draco. She had a sudden flashback of their kiss on the stairs to Dumbledore's office.

"_Don't you dare kiss me like that again until I can see you every day,"_ she had told him then.

"Not tired?" Draco repeated. He reached a finger up and trailed it down her arm.

"No," Ginny whispered. He was quite close, and Ginny shifted her eyes from his collarbone to his face. His lip quirked in a smile and his eyes were nearly black, with a ring of dark grey barely doing his irises justice. Hesitantly, Ginny lifted her hand and placed it on his chest. Yet another moment of déjà vu seized her as familiar muscle jumped under her hand. When they had kissed in the stairs, she hadn't actually touched his chest.

She quite wished she had.

The hand that had been trailing on her arm caught her hand against his chest and brought it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. Ginny's heart gave an electric jolt in her chest when his lips brushed first her palm, then her wrist.

Footsteps in the hall outside made Draco drop her hand hastily.

"Ginny, dear," came her mother's voice from the other side of the closed door. "Are you decent?"

"Ye – yes," Ginny said, gritting her teeth as felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. Draco, meanwhile, was reseating himself on the rim of the bathtub and smirking something awful.

"Here's your tea," Mrs. Weasley said, bustling in and not appearing to notice Ginny's heightened color or the smirk that Draco was taking pains to remove from his face. "Still in those dripping clothes?" she went on, setting the teacup down on the rim of the tub beside Draco and shaking her head at Ginny. "Into that tub with you – Draco, dear, would you turn that water off? Thank you."

"Mum, I don't have any dry clothes," Ginny blurted out.

"I'll send Bill to the Burrow tonight," Mrs. Weasley said. "In the meantime, I'll bring you something from Millicent or Pansy's trunks. I'm sure they won't mind sharing."

"I'm sure not," Draco murmured, his lip twitching again.

"Come along out and let Ginny have a good, long soak, Draco," Mrs. Weasley ordered, apparently not noticing his traitorous lip. "Ginny, would you like a book or something to read?"

"That . . . that would be nice," Ginny said, sitting down on the lid of the toilet and beginning to tug at her sodden socks. It gave her an excuse not to look at Draco.

"I brought a couple good ones," the dratted boy said, his voice neutral. "Shall I bring you one?"

"Do that, Draco," Mrs. Weasley said. "Ginny, love, do you need anything else?"

"No," Ginny said, managing to coax her sock off at last.

"I'll be downstairs tending to Miss Zabini, then," her mum said. Ginny thought for a moment that she had left, as her eyes were still on her sock, but then she felt a hand on her chin. She lifted her eyes to meet those of her mother, whose own were shining.

"I'm so very, very glad you're home, my love," she said quietly, stroking Ginny's dirty cheek.

"Me, too, Mum," she said, putting her arms around her mother's waist as she had done when a small girl and resting her head on her mother's bosom. Mrs. Weasley's lips brushed the top of her head and her hand ran over Ginny's hair. At last, she pulled back and patted Ginny's shoulder. Her expression suggested that she was restraining a good deal of emotion and Ginny couldn't help remembering the time she had come home from a summertime walk with Charlie last year to find her mum sobbing over a picture of their entire family. She feared for them, Ginny knew, and with reason. They were all in danger, and with Ginny missing for a week and Ron (if – _when_ he got back) and Harry about to join the Order, _everyone_ her mum loved was on the line.

"Take your bath," Mrs. Weasley said, moving to the door. "Go find Ginny her book, Draco."

Ginny jumped. She had forgotten that Draco was still there, perched on the edge of the bathtub.

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley," he responded, his voice odd.

Ginny glanced at his face and was surprised to see that the playful edge was gone and a darker expression, like the one she had seen in his eyes on the staircase, had come over it. Before Ginny could study it too carefully, he had vanished through the door after her mum.

She stared after him for a moment, before shaking herself and closing the door in their wake. Hopefully whatever book Draco was planning on bringing was thin so he could slide it under the door.

She wiggled her way out of her sopping jeans, pried the sleeves of her shirt off of her arms and pulled the resistant garment over her head. Her underclothes went more easily and at last, she stepped into the wonderfully bubbly bath. Her foot seared at first, going from icy to burning in an instant. She bore the discomfort with clenched teeth, forcing her other foot in as well. Standing there, with her feet and lower legs aching, she couldn't help smiling at the familiar scent of juniper that rose from the steamy tub. Juniper was her mother's solution to every ailment, and although there was no medical knowledge to back this up, Mrs. Weasley lived by it. Ginny suspected that her tea would be particularly potent (i.e. _bitter_) juniper with loads of honey.

Slowly, she eased the rest of her tired body into the bubbling water, delighting in the way the water wrapped around her and sent a tingling warmth from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Grinning, she ducked her head under the water and allowed herself to float, submerged for a good thirty seconds while the wonderful warmth soaked into her face and hair. She stayed under water as long as she could, then burst through the wall of bubbles, taking a breath of juniper-laden air.

Suddenly, she was nose to nose with Draco Malfoy.

She shrieked in surprise, automatically lowering her body into the bubbles. How had he come in within the half a minute she had been under water without her noticing?

Draco clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Shut it, Gin!" he hissed. "I don't want your twenty brothers skinning me alive. Promise you won't scream if I take my hand away!" There was nothing threatening in the way he said it – Ginny could read the vague panic in his face at the thought of her brothers. She nodded her head and he withdrew his hand, sitting back on his heals beside the tub.

"Pervert!" she hissed, glaring at him. "What the hell were you _doing_?" Good thing her face was flushed from the water, because, blast it, she was blushing again.

"I just came to bring your book," he retorted. "I _was_ just going to leave it on the sink, but then I noticed that you seemed to have been under water for longer than was natural and I came over to make sure you were okay, since you didn't seem to hear me come in, and you tried to head-butt me!"

"I didn't!" she said indignantly, sliding a little further under the fortunately impenetrable layer of bubbles, through which only her head seemed to be visible. "I was just rinsing my hair."

"Right," he said. He was silent for a moment, staring at Ginny in a decidedly unsettling way. Not at all predatory, Ginny was quick to notice, but speculating, certainly.

"What?" she demanded.

"I can't help noticing you're naked, Weasley," he said bluntly, a smirk toying with a corner of his lips.

Ginny glanced fervently over the layer of bubbles, relieved to see that they weren't giving _anything_ away apart from her head.

"Not notice _literally_," he assured her _after_ she had taken stock.

"You _are_ a pervert!" Ginny said sharply. "Get out or I might reconsider and scream my head off for my brothers."

"Oh, come on, Gin," he said in a surprisingly wheedlesome tone. Ginny looked piercingly at him, and saw that, while his lip was still twitching, he didn't look ready to try and ravish her, either. "I just want to talk."

"Yeah, right!" she blurted.

"Okay, so I want other things as well –and really, who can blame me?" he asked, pouting at her in a way that nearly made her burst out laughing, so ridiculous was it. "But, really, I can control myself –"

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Mostly," he finished. "I just want to talk to you. I've not seen you in a while, have I?"

"I – no, I guess not," she said cautiously. He wanted to _talk _to her? "So, what? You want to know about how school was going?"

He laughed at her suspicious expression.

"Sure, that's a fair place to start," he said with a shrug.

"But – why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why do you want to know about how school is going?" she asked, still mightily suspicious.

"Did I say that's what I wanted to know?" he said, annoyed now. "I said it was a good place to_ start_."

Ginny sighed. He wanted _something_, and he wasn't going to tell her what, for all her prodding. Anyway, Ginny wasn't going to deny that she _had_ missed him terribly (the why of it still escape her) and had questions of her own for him.

"Fine," she said, defeated.

"Huh – I wasn't expecting you to give in," he said, pooling a dressing gown that hadn't been in there when they had first come in on the ground and sliding down the wall to sit on it. "Bloody uncomfortable," he grumbled.

"So," Ginny said, leaning against the back of the tub and taking a deep, juniper-y breath. "What do you want to know?"

"This isn't a bloody interrogation," he snapped. "I'm trying to have a conversation with you, Weasley."

"If that's so," Ginny said, unable to stop herself, "you'd best keep calling me Ginny. Or Gin. Or Ginevra. 'Weasley' is what you call Ron and I hope you're a bit more keen on me than you are on him."

"A _bit_ more," he muttered, but shook his head. "Sure – whatever you want, _Ginevra_."

"Right, then," she said, slowly. "Well, after you and Harry left things went on as usual, although there was a lot of speculation about why you and Harry had left. No one knew about him and Blaise, so we didn't have to answer loads of questions, but – oh, speaking of which . . ." Ginny turned to look at him curiously. "I know this is really ridiculous, but can _you_ remember anything about Blaise and Harry getting together?"

"Nothing," Draco said, shaking his head. "Potter and I've been circle round that, as well as how we suddenly became friends. We can remember shaking on it outside Dumbledore's office, but the why of it is sort of mystery."

"Good thing Ron didn't know about it," Ginny muttered. "That's going to be hell, when he finds out." She sobered at the thought of her brother and Hermione, still somewhere unknown with Sirius and McGonagall. "Anyway," she went on quickly, trying not to think of her brother and the agony her mother was probably suffering on his behalf, "another thing Blaise and I couldn't figure out was how in the name of arse we had suddenly become friends. I mean, at first, we could both remember, but as time went on . . ."

"Details sort of trickled away, until it didn't make any sense," Draco finished, glancing sideways her with a nod. "Yeah, Potter and I had the same problem. I tried writing down everything I remembered, but – well, it was weird. Every day, I'd open the parchment I wrote everything down on and it was like someone run an eraser over parts of it. Some words would just be faded, others would be gone. Every day, the earlier entries would fade a bit more, until –"

Draco fished in a pocket and removed a small notebook of parchment, which he passed silently to Ginny. He didn't seem to mind if the notebook was damaged by water, so Ginny lifted her hand from beneath the bubbles, shook excess water from it, and took the notebook gingerly. Flipping through it, she saw what he meant.

"I take it you've not done this for a while," she said, noting that it looked as though he had never written anything.

"Gave up ages ago," he acknowledged, taking it back. "Potter and I decided it wasn't worth the effort. It seems to me . . ." he trailed off, his eyes narrowing as though he was trying to remember something. "Whatever we did, it was important, or we wouldn't have been in Dumbledore's office. And he said something about Unspeakables."

"Whatever we did," Ginny said, and she thought it quite a jump to imagine that they had done anything, "if Unspeakables were involved, a record would be available in the Department of Mysteries." She paused, watching his closed expression closely. "You want to go try to find out what we did?"

"Nah, Potter's put me off it," Draco sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Git's right – there are more important things right now."

"Like the war," Ginny murmured, frown deepening into a scowl as she watched the rippling bubbles. "Bloody You-Know-Who. Why couldn't he die the first bloody time?"

"You were going to tell me about the rest of your year," Draco pointed out, and looking sharply at him, Ginny saw him grinning slightly.

"What?" she demanded.

"You're a bit of a spitfire, aren't you?" he teased, reaching over the tub's rim and tweaking Ginny's ear. She retaliated by slapping his hand away none too gently. "Go on, then," he grouched, rubbing his hand. "Who've you been beating without me around?"

"Why, I have hordes of admirers, Draco," Ginny said, switching to sickly sweet in an instant. She liked the blonde riled up. "I'm been beating them off with a mallet."

"I'm sure," he snorted, not rising to the bait. "Did you get to your exams?"

"No," Ginny said, sulkily. "Days before, and Dumbledore told us the school was closing down and everyone was being sent to safe houses."

"Potter and I overheard the Order meeting when they decided to do that, yeah," Draco nodded.

"Wait – you and Harry are_ in_ the Order, aren't you?" Ginny said in surprise. In Dumbledore's office, she had been under the impression that they were going to _join_ the Order.

"By _join_ the old bat didn't actually mean _join_," Draco said darkly. He looked mildly hacked off. "By _join_ he meant being holed up here for a thousand years so we could finish our N.E.W.T.s and we could practice some defensive study."

"Have you taken your N.E.W.T.s yet?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Nope," Draco said. "We're waiting round for Granger and Weasley and then the lot of us are having the test proctored for us. At first, Dumbledore thought he could get some old clod from the Ministry to proctor for us, but he doesn't think it's safe to bring anyone in from 'the outside'," and here, Draco made dramatically oversized quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "So various Aurors are going to be in charge of most of the testing. Dumbledore knows the format, and bloody Minister Fudge will accept anything signed by him saying that the tests were taken fairly."

"Least you'll get to sit them," Ginny said rather forlornly. She still had a whole year before she would be ready, and by the looks of things, Hogwarts was on lock down for an indefinite period of time. "And at least you'll be officially out and ready to fight with the Order."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Draco ordered, though his tone was just shy of a snap. "At least _you'll_ survive the war."

Ginny's head whipped around as she stared at him. He didn't look especially upset, but the closed expression on his face told Ginny that he had said more that he meant to. She felt a pang.

"You're going to, too, Draco," she said firmly. "You guys are barely out of school. The Order isn't going to put you on the front line for a long while yet."

"Don't be so bloody optimistic," he retorted. "Potter and I are targets. Voldemort will hunt us down, even if we tuck tail and hide at HQ for bloody eternity. Which," he said, with a sardonic smile, "we both know Potter isn't going to do."

Ginny bit her lip.

"Sitting around being protected might _sound_ nice," she said slowly, "but honestly, Draco, I don't think I'll be able to stand it. Knowing that my friends and family are in terrible danger and not being able to do anything."

"Tell me how you all got out of the castle," Draco said abruptly.

"I – what?" Ginny said.

"The castle, Weasley," Draco bit out, and Ginny suddenly realized that he desperately wanted to change the subject.

"Um," she said slowly. "Well, we were told the night before we left. We were told to pack our belongings into our trunks and put on our warmest robes, even though it was summer. We didn't actually bring any of our stuff with us, though. Then we were assigned groups – group 1, 2, 3, 4, and so on – but we weren't told who was in each. I expect that Dumbledore didn't want to risk any of the kids who might already be involved in Voldemort's cause getting their group caught."

"Makes sense," Draco said. Ginny was relieved to see that his face had relaxed a bit. "But what if he sent a Death Eater off with a group of kids?"

"I asked Hermione and she told me that each group leader was going to be performing an 'arm check'," Ginny said. "You know, for the Dark Mark."

"How do you know about –"

"Harry told me."

"Of course. Go on."

"I'm not sure what they were supposed to do with those who'd been marked, if there were any."

"There were," Draco said darkly. "Trust me."

"Dunno what was done with them, then," Ginny said. "Good bet their memories were modified and they were put on the train home. The rest of us were snuck out through various passages under the school, one group at a time. The rest of us were monitored constantly, and once we had collected our things, were kept under armed guard in the Great Hall. No one was to leave for _any _reason until our assigned group left."

"Did you all make it out in time?" Draco asked.

"Almost," Ginny said, her stomach clenching at the memory that had had a week to settle in. "The teachers and ghosts were on constant alert. No even the Prefects or Head Boy or Girl were allowed to help with guard duty. Then," and Ginny had to pause for a moment as her throat tightened. "Then, one of the middle groups was reported missing by Madam Rosmerta, who was the Hogsmeade checkpoint, where everyone was Portkeying out. Dumbledore contacted the Ministry, but didn't dare leave us alone, because it might have been a trap to lure him from Hogwarts, and he's the one who holds the key to all of the wards protecting us."

"What happened?" Draco asked, leaning forward. "Did that group make it okay?"

"I – I haven't heard," Ginny said quietly. "Dumbledore wouldn't tell me anything, because on the off-chance I was captured, he didn't want me to be able to say anything important."

Draco's expression darkened.

"What?" Ginny asked.

He shook his head. "Go on."

"So Dumbledore decided that we needed a faster method of transport and began dropping the wards for an instant to allow groups to Portkey directly from the Great Hall. You know that since fifth year, Portkeys haven't worked on the grounds."

"Yeah, I knew," Draco said. "But wasn't dropping the wards dangerous –"

He was caught off as the door opened. Ginny shrieked again and ducked as far under the water as she could get and still see the door.

"Sorry," Pansy said, not looking particularly so. "Door wasn't locked."

"You could've knocked," Ginny snapped, relaxing. It _was_ just a girl, after all.

"Well, since I'm here anyway," Pansy said, eyeing Draco beadily. "Get on with whatever you're doing."

"As soon as you get out," Ginny retorted hotly.

"Save yourself the trouble and let her listen, Gin," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "She'll want to hear all this, too."

"Ask Blaise," Ginny said to Pansy. "Anyway, you know most of it."

"I don't know about how you got lost. And Blaise won't tell me anything," Pansy said, looking supremely brassed. "Too busy snogging Potter."

"Thanks for that," Draco said, wincing. "I thought we'd decided earlier that anything involving Potter snogging or shagging was not worth thinking about. Ugh, Pansy!"

She stopped scowling long enough to smirk at him. Then she crossed the room and took a seat on the toilet.

"Go on, Weasley," she said imperiously.

"Oh, yes, of course, your bloody highness," Ginny muttered.

"Don't be cross, Ginny-love," Draco put in, reaching out toward her ear again. Ginny snapped her teeth at him and he yanked it back. "All right, all right," he mumbled, sneering at her. "No need to get touchy."

"You, either," she said pointedly, turning up her nose. "Now, where was I?"

"Portkeying from the Great Hall," Draco prompted sulkily.

"Oh, yeah." Ginny was feeling a bit warm now, so she sat up, glad the bubbles rose nearly to the rim of the tub, and leaned her elbows on the edge of side of the tub, resting her chin on her hands. "So about half the groups had already gone, and the others began Portkeying at random intervals. Dumbledore didn't want there to be a pattern, so he tried to stagger as much as possible. First group went, then an hour later, another, then five minutes later, another, then a half hour – anyway, you get the idea.

"So it worked brilliantly until there were only three groups left."

"You forgot to mention the bit about those of us who Dumbledore doesn't like being knocked unconscious," Pansy put in snarkily.

"It wasn't because he didn't like you, you twit," Ginny said, half exasperated, and half irritated. "You're high-risk. If the Dark Lord had a blood connection through any of your families, he might have been able to use it to pull the location from you, _if_ you found out the location of your safe house."

"She knows that, Gin," Draco said, glaring at Pansy, who was smirking. "Shut up and let her get on with it. I want to know what happened."

Pansy pouted, but Draco ignored her.

Ginny opened her mouth, and the door opened again.

"For Christ's sake!" she bit out, as Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott came wandering in. "Did someone put a sign on the door say, 'Bloody well come watch Ginny Weasley have a bath'?"

When no one immediately responded, Ginny's eyes narrowed.

"Parkinson?" she said dangerously.

Pansy smirked in demure satisfaction.

"Not a note, exactly," she said, rather too smugly for Ginny's taste. "But I _may_ have left the door open – a bit – in case Millie or Nott or . . . anyone, happened alone."

Ginny glanced at the door, which was cracked open.

"Don't call me that," Millicent ordered, taking a seat beside Draco.

"Argh!" Ginny said, burying her face in her arms. A hand on her hair jerked her out of her somewhat embarrassed silence.

"You really need to relax," Draco pointed out, pulling his hand away before Ginny could hit, bite, or otherwise damage it.

"Oh, that's rich," she said. "I should relax with a roomful of Slytherins who would probably take great pleasure in my humiliation and the fact the you're sitting on my only means of modesty."

"Come, come," Teddy said, winking. "Those bubbles look thick enough."

"For now, maybe," Ginny said, groaning. "Look, if I tell you everything, will you _please _leave?"

"What do you think?" Pansy asked the others.

"Sure, we'll go," Millicent said. "But you'd better tell us everything, because it's _our_ clothes you'll be borrowing tonight."

"And it's thrilling me, let me tell you," Ginny deadpanned. "What about it, Draco?"

"Oh, no," he said, smiling mischievously. "You and I have some – other things to discuss."

Ginny banged her hand on the rim of the tub as the other three started making Lavender Brown-worthy cooing noises.

"I hate all of you, just for the record," she said, glaring around at them.

"My life's work accomplished in under five minutes," Pansy said. "Well, go on. The three of us all know what happened with the Portkeying. You were to the bit where there were three groups left."

"Right," Ginny said, taking a deep breath. The next part still made her shiver. She had experienced more adventure, fear, and victory than the average sixteen-year-old, but that didn't make her immune to it. She still hadn't had time to recap everything in her mind and deal with resulting emotions.

"Gin?" Draco's voice made her blink.

"Sorry," she said, drawing another determined breath. "So there were the three groups left. It had been a half-hour since the last time the wards had been dropped, but Dumbledore decided we were running out of time."

"Did you ever find out why we didn't all just go at once?" Millicent cut in.

"Because the magic of all of the Portkeys firing at once might have overwhelmed the castle wards, Dumbledore told me," Ginny said impatiently. She wished she could just get to her nub – it would be easier that way.

"Why would that matter? It's not like we'd need them once the castle was deserted," Nott said, his brow furrowing.

"It wasn't that," Ginny said exasperatedly. "Enough stress on the wards might have damaged the structure of the castle. The magic is built into the foundation of the castle and grounds. Just dropping them doesn't make them non-existent – just dropped. They're still breakable. Now, can I continue?" No one objected, and Ginny rolled her eyes. "_Thank_ you. Anyway, Dumbledore dropped the wards and right as the third to last group's Portkey fired, about a dozen Death Eaters suddenly Apparated in."

Ginny was mildly satisfied when this proclamation elicited hisses and gasps of surprise.

"_Death Eaters_?" Draco said, his eyes wide with absolute incredulity. "How the – I mean, how is it possible? Hogwarts is supposed to be the safest building in Britain!"

"_Suppose_ to be. Why do you think it was evacuated, Draco?" Pansy said, though she sounded awed herself. "Because it _isn't_ the safest building in Britain anymore. Dumbledore would never have closed it down otherwise."

"So what's the weakness?" Millicent murmured, her brow furrowed.

"Well, Dumbledore did say this funny thing, after we'd escaped," Ginny broke in. "He was like, 'A school should not become a fortress.' I think part of problem is that Dumbledore doesn't want a building full of kids becoming a military target. And he's got a point. But anyway, with the wards down, there obviously wasn't _any_ sort of protection."

"And the Death Eaters were probably constantly monitoring the wards," Nott speculated. "I reckon You-Know-Who would want it studied in microscopic detail and kept monitored for any deviation."

"Like this one," Ginny nodded.

"So – a dozen Death Eaters," Draco said, his voice taking on that familiar oddness again. He met her eyes. "Recognize any of them?"

There was a very tense pause.

"They – they were masked, weren't they?" Ginny said quietly, knowing that they would all know she was opting for evasion. "Anyway, I was too busy going for my wand, wasn't I?"

"_Going for your wand_?" Draco said loudly. "The _hell_ you were! You didn't plan to fight them?"

"To defend myself and my friends!" Ginny retorted, defensively. "I wasn't going to run and hide!"

"Why the hell not?" Draco snapped, his spine rigid. "What makes you think you've got any chance against a Death Eater? You'd cry like a little school girl if you knew half the dark spells they use for fun!"

"I _am_ a little school girl," Ginny said coldly, leaning away from him against the back of the bathtub. "And I have faced far more horrific things, Draco Malfoy, than a bunch of men who think they know how to use magic. Are you lot through interrupting me or can I carry on? This isn't pleasant, and I'd rather tell it and get it over."

Draco sat back against the wall, glaring at Pansy's knee, which was eye-level. He was apparently too sullen to wonder what she meant about facing far more horrific things than any of the Death Eaters had ever seen, and Ginny was decidedly relieved.

"Fortunately, most of the younger students had been sent on ahead, so it was just my group, which had a few third years, Blaise and I, and several sixth year Ravenclaws," Ginny continued after a moment's pause. "Dumbledore started firing spells right away and told us to get behind him. McGonagall's group did the same. Our numbers were even, but the Death Eaters set up a defensive magical barrier right away. Well, Dumbledore had enough time to raise the wards, of course, to keep more Death Eaters out. As it was, we didn't know if there were other groups in other parts of the castle. I mean, us kids didn't. Dumbledore could probably tell with the wards up.

"Well, the Death Eaters were in front of the main door, so Dumbledore told us to make for the door behind the teacher's table. We made it and he locked and barricaded the door. He told us that the Death Eaters were probably waiting for him to drop the wards again, and we couldn't risk any more of them, or worse," she swallowed, "You-Know-Who himself. Dumbledore could probably have fought him, but not with loads of kids to protect as well."

"So what happened?" Pansy asked. All pretense of disinterest had left her face and she was leaning toward Ginny, her elbows propped on her knees.

"He said he wasn't leaving Hogwarts full of Death Eaters, so he made some calls and suddenly a bunch of members of the Order appeared."

They all opened their mouths to protest.

"No, shut up and let me finish," Ginny ordered. "I know it's weird, but they had special access to the wards, apparently. It's not that you can't Apparate through wards, it's that you have to fit. It's like – think of a fence with a hole in the middle. Some animals – cats and so on – can fit, because they're the right size and height. But dogs and rats can't because dogs are too big and rats are too low to the ground to jump through."

"So these people are given holes in the ward that fit just them," Millicent said slowly.

"Yes," Ginny said. "I don't understand it, but –"

"Blood bonds," Draco murmured suddenly, to himself. "Blood bonds, blood brothers . . ."

"Malfoy, what're you jabbering about?" Nott asked, eyeing him uncertainly.

"Shove it – oh, _why_ can't I remember?" he growled.

"Draco, it this about – you-know-what, earlier?" Ginny asked suddenly. He had that look that she had seen on Blaise's face when she couldn't _quite _remember something from whatever had happened before Dumbledore's office and she couldn't quite pin it down.

"Yeah – yeah," he said distractedly. "Blood – it's all to do with blood."

"Uh, yes - _ lots _of blood," Pansy said, leaning away from him. "Can you move on, please? _Now,_ Weasley?"

"Sure, sure," Ginny said, watching Draco frown and mutter for a moment longer, before giving up. If he was meant to remember, he would. At least, she hoped so. "Um – so Bill and George were there, and Professor Lupin, and Tonks and Shacklebolt, the Aurors. They said they'd deal with the Death Eaters, but to get us kids out of there. Naturally, we wanted to help, but Dumbledore kept telling us that we weren't ready and rubbish. I was kind of surprised _he_ didn't stay, actually, because he controls the wards. But then I realized that him leaving was like taking away the key to Hogwarts. Without him there, there was no possible way the wards, at least, could be breached."

"Which means that whatever the danger to us was, it wasn't the wards," Pansy pointed out. "It was something else."

"Right, yeah," Ginny said. "And again, I think it had something to do with Dumbledore talking about a school being no place for a fortress."

"Wait," Nott said slowly, his eyes narrowed. "With us kids gone, it's not a school anymore . . ."

"So it _could_ be turned into a fortress," Draco finished darkly. "It's one of the strongest, most protected buildings in Britain. Why not use as a base of operations for the Order?"

They all sat considering this idea for a moment. Ginny didn't know about the others, but the idea of Hogwarts being turned into a machine of war was upsetting.

"Anyway, Weasley," Pansy said at length, shaking her head slightly. "Go on with your story."

"So Bill and them left to set up booby traps and we were snuck out through several secret doorways," Ginny said after a deep breath. She could consider Hogwarts later. "By then the Death Eaters had spread out, but we managed to evade them and made it out through different passages into Hogsmeade, from which we made for the safe houses on foot, and then from the safe houses here."

"Why not Portkey?" Nott asked.

"We could have been traced, and they knew we were coming out through Hogsmeade," Ginny said. "Those Death Eaters who got into Hogwarts could just as easily leave on foot, Apparate to You-Know-Who, mention that they knew which groups were left, and then it would have been a simple matter of tracing our magical trails from Portkeys, etc. The safe houses are warded and everything, but not impossible to find. So, we walked. It wasn't so bad – I mean, we took Muggle taxis and the like, which is slow, but not as slow as walking. So we ran a little late."

"And we can probably assume the other group's okay, too," Pansy said slowly. "Just taking their sweet time losing any pursuers and enjoying Muggle transport. It's Granger's preferred method of travel, I'm sure."

"Lay off Hermione," Ginny said tiredly, slumping sideways against the side of the tub and rubbing her temples. She was drained. The tension of the previous week – loads of walking, having to be sneaky and magickless, supporting the younger students until they reached the safe house – it all made her feel exhausted.

"I think that's enough interrogation for now," Draco spoke up quietly. "Leave poor Gin to her soak, you lot."

"Ooh, aren't we all concerned and parenty all of a sudden," Millicent said.

Ginny opened her eyes and looked round at the four Slytherins. They were all, she realized, as tense, worried, and exhausted as she was. She suddenly remembered that she hadn't told them if she had seen their parents amongst the invasion party in the Great Hall. But even as she opened her mouth, she knew that it really wasn't important. The point was that their families – brothers, sisters, parents – were probably all out there.

They were orphans, one way or another.

Ginny glanced at Draco, suddenly understanding his sudden fits of oddity that afternoon –

Every time anyone mentioned family. Of bloody _course_!

"That's all I have to tell," she spoke up at last. "Sorry. Dumbledore or Blaise might be able to tell you more, but –"

"No, I think you did fine, Gin."

Blaise and Harry stepped around the door.

"Oh, do_ please_ come in," Ginny said, rolling her eyes but glad to see them nonetheless. Harry, she noticed, had the grace to lower his eyes – a gesture that neither of the Slytherin boys had bothered with.

"I'm here to kick you out, as it happens," Blaise told her. "Your mum has ordered me to send you to bed so you can have your tea." She glanced pointedly at the full teacup on the bathroom sink.

"And what has Potter to do with your bathing, Blaise?" Nott asked sharply.

"Nothing – he just won't be arsed to leave me be," Blaise said, and Ginny was pretty sure she was the only one who saw the flicker of warmth in Blaise's sarcastic purple eyes.

"Nauseating," Pansy said, getting to her feet and pushing passed Blaise and Harry. "Come on, Millie, we might be able to dig up something for _our_ tea if we go down to Mrs. Weasley."

"I doubt it – she's too busy with the poor invalids," Millicent snarked back, contemptuously. "And for Merlin's sake, don't call me Millie! Teddy, Draco?"

"I'll be along in a moment," Draco told her, pushing himself to his feet and shaking out the crumpled bathrobe. Nott shook his head at Draco and followed the girls.

The door closed on the three Slytherins and their muttering and the bathroom became silent.

"Well," Harry said at length. "Together again, huh?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Draco nodded, leaning back against the wall and allowing a small smile to pass over his lips.

"In less than ideal conditions, you might add," Ginny said pointedly.

"Admit it, Gin," Blaise said, quirking a smile. "It's sort of sexy."

"_Or something_," Ginny stressed.

There was a pause – a surprisingly comfortable silence in which no one moved or looked at anyone else, but simply stood and breathed in the juniper and temporary peace of the large lavatory.

"Very emotional," Draco said flatly, and the moment was gone. Gone, Ginny thought, but not forgotten. She knew that she, at least, would always take comfort in the presence of the other three. She had a feeling that they felt the same.

"Indeed," Blaise said, but her voice was soft. "Gin? Can I have the tub?"

"Sure," Ginny said, glaring pointedly at the boys. "Both of you – _out_!"

**)WE(**

Draco hesitated outside of the girls' bedroom, though he heard no voices within. Ginny had pushed him out some time ago and closed the door, saying she needed to pull on Millicent's borrowed pajamas. But ten minutes had passed and she still hadn't invited him in.

Well, she wasn't naked, he was sure. So he slowly pushed the door opened.

Ginny shrieked loudly and tried to cover herself.

"What're you doing?" he asked in confusion, as she yanked on a too-large dressing gown.

"What're _you_ doing?" she shot back, knotting the cord around her waist before turning back to glare at him. "I didn't say come in!"

"Well, you might have died, for all I knew," he muttered rather lamely. "How long was I supposed to stand out there? Another five years and I might have starved. Anyway, it's not like you weren't fully clothed when I came in!"

"I'm still trying to figure out how to make Bulstrode's pajamas stay on," she admitted, her tone softening slightly. "She's a bit larger than me."

"A bit," Draco agreed, biting his lip to keep back a smile. After a moment, he ventured, "Aren't there buttons or something?"

"No, just elastic."

Draco suddenly realized that they were talking about the _bottoms_ and felt quite uncomfortable. Not because pajama bottoms were particularly taboo, but because they were _Ginny Weasley's_ pajamas . . .

Hey, what was he doing? This was _Ginny Weasley_, who had said not to "dare kiss me like that again until I can see you every day." This was the girl who had voluntarily snogged _him_. She was gagging for it, wasn't she?

With a smile that bordered on predatory, he stepped further into the room and closed the door quietly behind him. Ginny watched him, her eyes suddenly on his. She didn't look wary – she looked conflicted.

Nothing he couldn't clear up.

"What?" she said, as he moved silently toward her.

He didn't answer, but he didn't move quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel unsafe in any way – cornered. And in a room this small, it could very well seem as though he were boxing her in.

Wait – what was this? He was being . . . _thoughtful_. It was just not on.

Two more strides had him within inches of her.

"Draco?" she said hesitantly, hands dropping away from her waist where they had probably been holding up the pajama bottoms.

"Yeah?" he spoke at last, his voice just above a whisper.

"God, why haven't you snogged me yet, you prat?" she almost groaned, throwing her arms haphazardly around his neck and pulling herself flush against him.

Well! What had held her back before?

"Building up the suspense, you know," he murmured, before pulling her mouth against his. He met with little resistance except the hissing breath of a moan. His hands caught her hips, where he could feel the waistband of the pants slouching, and he felt a shiver pass from his stomach to the tips of his toes. He had kissed plenty of girls, but not one of them did this to him. What _this_ was he hadn't determined, but he _liked _it! He pulled her tightly against him, noticing peripherally that she was on her tiptoes and that her stomach was pressed against his, hips against his, toes knocking gently against his shins.

"Mmph – Draco?" Ginny pulled back enough to free her lips, which action Draco greatly resented. "What if Bulstrode or Parkinson –"

"They'll wish they'd never been born," Draco growled. Ginny giggled, breath coming out hot and damp and sweet with tea against his face. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and returned his lips to hers, his teeth caressing her lower lip and eliciting another groan from Ginny, who this time did nothing to separate them. Her hands slid down his back and, finding the edge of his shirt, tugged upward.

"You don't waste time," Draco sniggered, pulling his lips from hers and trailing them across her jaw, down her chin, and into the hollow of her throat.

"Shut up, you know we've been ready for this for a month," she gasped, tugging more insistently on his shirt. Draco didn't have to look at her face to know what she meant.

With a wild shove they toppled onto one of the beds, not caring if it was Ginny's. Draco pulled his mouth from Ginny's throat long enough for her to unceremoniously yank his shirt over his head and toss it somewhere across the room. Draco's head immediately lowered, his lips finding her collarbone even as his hands found the bottom set of buttons on Millicent's overlarge nightshirt.

"Ginny, dear, I was wondering if you – oh, good Merlin!"

The light clicked on and with a shout of surprise Draco toppled off the bed, landing hard on his bum, whilst Ginny let out a piercing shriek and buried her head under a pillow.

"I leave you alone for five seconds, Draco Malfoy," Mrs. Weasley said menacingly, advancing into the room and shaking a spatula threateningly.

"She started it!" he howled, pointing at the lump of Millicent's pajamas and pillow that was Ginny.

"Didn't!" Ginny cried in muffled tones.

Mrs. Weasley's expression was very serious, though Draco was surprised and quite relieved to note no anger in it. Her words were simple.

"I understand that you're relieved that Ginny is safe, Draco," she said. "And Ginny, I imagine you're quite happy to see Draco again. But now is hardly the time to allow your feelings to run away with themselves. We're at war."

Draco stared at the short, round woman. Judging by the ruffling of the bedclothes, Ginny was as well.

"My dears, I know what it is like to fancy yourself partial to someone," Mrs. Weasley went on, her voice almost gentle. "But I also know that you are both very young and –" she looked back and forth between them. "Now is not the time."

Draco bowed his head to hide a grimace. The way she was acting, you'd think she thought they were eternally bound or something. It was just a . . . a what, he wondered, toying with a loose thread on a blanket that had broken his fall.

"I've spoken to Harry and Miss Zabini as well," Mrs. Weasley finished softly. "Please, Ginny. Draco. Don't do this now. You'll understand me later, perhaps. Draco, focus on your N.E.W.T.s and training. Ginny, finish school and decide how to spend your time until the war ends."

She left them, turning off the light as she went.

Draco raised his eyes to meet Ginny's. Ginny stared back, her own wide and surprised.

"Well?" Ginny said quietly, eyebrows raised.

Draco felt a pang of – well, something unpleasantly like longing – deep in his chest. It constricted, squeezing bravery out of its way. Mrs. Weasley was right. They were at war. Now was no time for flings or romances or whatever the hell they were getting into.

_We don't even know_, Draco thought bitterly.

He did know, however, that he couldn't stand the thought of losing Ginny.

And that sort of feeling wouldn't do at all.

Without a word, he got to his feet and made for the door.

"An Auror!" Ginny said abruptly.

"What?" Draco didn't – couldn't – face her.

"That's what I intend to do with myself during the war," Ginny said softy. "_I_ can be brave, you know."

Draco unclenched his fists and left the room without looking back.

_That's what I'm afraid of._

**)WE(**

It was passed two in the morning when Blaise crept into the boys' room. Her excellent night vision made it easy for her to find Harry's bed. Her excellent hearing made it easy to distinguish the even, often noisy breathing of the other boys.

Harry was already sitting up when she reached the bedside. She leaned down and kissed him hungrily, silently, in the dark. He pulled back and got to his feet. Together, they wove their way out of the room, careful not to let the door click shut behind them. They slipped down the hall and into the one empty room in the house where they were sure not to be interrupted.

The lavatory was chilly and deserted when they reached it. Blaise closed and locked the door behind them, and before she had even turned fully back around, Harry was pushing her against the wall, his lips scorching hers and his tongue sliding roughly over her teeth. Having not seen each other in a month, in addition to the tension of not knowing if they'd ever see each other again that had settled over the last week, pent up energy, nerves, and desire made them both desperate for something. Blaise knew that if she hadn't come to him, Harry would have come to her.

Blaise caught her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth harder against hers and feeling a bizarre tingle of déjà vu. It intensified briefly as Harry pulled her with him to the floor, before sinking into a forgotten realm of her mind that was where most thought went when she was with Harry. He pulled her on top of him, allowing her control and the power to guide him.

Somehow, Blaise knew as she slid buttons from buttonholes and pushed his shirt free, they had both known this was coming. It was as though Blaise's coming to 5 Inmind Street at long last had triggered something that was supposed to happen. And without asking, they both knew it was what they wanted. Harry's hands were on her shirt the instant she had finished with his and pulled it over her head in a fluid motion. Blaise stretched out across his chest and lowered her mouth to his again, pushing his head back against the floor and feeling her chest tingle when his hands dropped low on her hips and tightened. Their legs tangled together and Blaise felt the tension in his muscles as if they were her own.

All at once, something awoke in Blaise's frazzled, desire-fogged mind. A quiet, familiar something – almost the same as her earlier déjà vu, yet not quite. She was quite sure she had never slept with Harry on a bathroom floor before . . .

Under her, Harry stilled. His lips still grasped hers, his hands still gripped her sides, but he was moving more slowly. Almost hesitant, she realized suddenly.

Gently she pulled her lips from his and gazed down into his unfocused eyes, which shown clearly in the moonlight streaming through the window.

"You feel it, too?" Harry whispered, his breathing heavy as his hand traveled up her side to stroke her neck.

"Yes." Blaise shut her eyes and rested her forehead against his. "Harry . . ."

"I know," he murmured, his own eyes squeezing shut. "What do we do?"

It wasn't the first time they had had strange feelings like this. Both of them had had moments of – well, it felt like importance. When Blaise approached such a moment, she felt as though she were facing diverging paths that would never again meet. One choice or other would set the direction of her life. She knew she had had these feelings before, and obviously, so had Harry.

"How do we know what's right?" Blaise murmured.

"We don't," Harry returned. "But Dumbledore once told me that I had a choice – always – between what was right and what was easy."

Blaise blinked, her throat tightening as her answer came. Of course her feeling about diverging paths wasn't limited to this moment. She had other choices to make as well – choices which Mrs. Weasley had reminded her of this evening.

"We're at war," she had said. "This is no time for – well, whatever you two are up to."

"She's right," Blaise said dully, her desire draining from her chest and leaving a dull hole in its place. "Mrs. Weasley is right. This is no time for us."

"God, I wish you hadn't said that," Harry said, dropping his hands away from her and letting his head fall back with a gentle thud against the hard floor.

"What do we do, Harry?" she echoed his earlier question, suddenly wishing that he was the omniscient little hero he was made out to be by those unlucky enough to be strangers to him.

He sighed, then looked her square in the eye. She was sure that, despite the darkness and his bad eyesight, he could see her clearly.

"You know, Blaise," he whispered back, so quietly she almost couldn't make out the words. She stared back, her throat tightening again and her eyes suddenly burning. Without a word, she slid off of him and got to her feet. She caught her shirt up and pulled it haphazardly over her head before turning to go.

"Blaise." Harry caught her ankle. She looked down at him, willing her tears to stay in check. "Not like this, Blaise."

"Like what, then?" she retorted, rubbing at her eyes.

He got to his feet, reaching out a hand as if to caress her cheek and then sighing and dropping it. "I hope you know that I want – I want whatever we're doing – very much. It's just –"

"Mrs. Weasley's right," Blaise finished, feeling both miserable and resigned. How had she got from utterly turned on to deflated in the span of ten minutes? It didn't seem possible and just wasn't fair.

"I mean, I – we've got enough to deal with now without making things harder for ourselves," Harry went on forcefully, clearly trying to convince himself and her at the same time. "I mean, I could be killed and then I imagine you would be kind of unhappy – I hope you would. I mean, I don't want you to be unhappy, but if anything happened to me, if you _weren't_ unhappy –"

"Oh, Harry, please shut up," Blaise breathed, throwing her arms around him and clinging on tightly for a moment. He obligingly did stop talking and hugged her fiercely to him for a moment before pulling resolutely back. "Friends?" he said reluctantly.

Blaise stared at him, her heart aching with grief and a strange sense of rightness. However much she hated it now, they _were_ doing what was right, rather than what was easy.

"Friends," she agreed, clasping his hand in hers.

**)WE(**

TBC


	19. Bridging the Gap: Part 3

Potter vs. Malfoy: Bridging the Gap

By Jedi Tess of Gryffindor

Summary: Aware of the fact that her most beloved fic had in it a gaping hole, J.T. set out many months ago to make things right. Here (she hopes) is a ficlet that will satisfied any unsatisfied "War's End" readers and, indeed, finish forever the "Potter vs. Malfoy" saga.

_**A/N: I can't even begin to apologize for my loooooong lack of updates. I can't believe how long many of you have stuck with me and how many of you have sent me scathing but well-deserved reviews to the effect of "update, or we'll riot!" You're an amazing bunch to write for and you keep me in the fan fiction world, even as I'm being forced out by the large amounts of original fiction I've had to put my time into.**_

_**This ISN'T the last chapter of "Bridging the Gap", but you've all be so eager for updates of any kind that I decided this would be your week-till-Christmas present. Hopefully, you'll be getting a few more gifts as the holiday draws near hint hint. This is nice and long, but does end with a cliffy. Still, hope you all enjoy! New chapter of "Bend It" really is coming along. It's the checking for plot accuracy that makes it such a tedious process. Have faith, my beauteous fans. Have faith!**_

_**If you're interested in reading more of my writing, an alternative to slouching around waiting for my updates, is available for you! It can be found at my Live Journal, **__**Clever Pooh (…and how!)**__**. It's not Harry Potter, but it IS pretty goofy, with skits, rambling, recs, etc. Have fun! **_

_Loves!_

_J.T.___

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good – er, I mean, I own nothing. Yeah... All characters and situations taken from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter canon are solely hers. Original, non-canonical plot ideas belong to me, Tess Williams, as of August 2002, when this piece was originally begun. I intend no copyright infringement by dabbling in the Harry Potter universe!

**Part 3**

**One Year Later – July, 1999**

Blaise tossed and turned, feeling the weight of heat on her body and the tug of restlessness in her mind. She shifted again, tucking her pillow more firmly under her head.

"_Do you mind_?" her tent-mate demanded in a whisper. "_Some of us have training tomorrow_."

"Poor little dear," Blaise hissed, giving a final, fruitless toss before giving up and getting ponderously to her feet. She stalked out of the bedroom of the tent and into the kitchen, swearing when her toe found the doorway. She rubbed her eyes, which were already well adjusted to the dark.

"_Incendio_," she muttered, pointing at the open spit in the center of the kitchen. Cheerful, smokeless flames caught the charred logs and lit the small kitchen in a way that Blaise found almost soothing.

She turned away from the fire to the kettle and pointed her wand at it. It leapt into the air, filled itself with water from the sink, and settled itself over the fire. Blaise pulled a mug and a plate of old biscuits from the cupboard and went to the table. There was a lot to be said for a good wizarding tent, she thought, taking a seat and gazing out of the small casement over the table. The almost-full moon was oddly dulled by the wisps of yellowish cloud cover, and the stars seemed dim, lifeless. In her sleeveless top and knickers, Blaise was sticky and irritable.

The kettle whistled shrilly and Blaise smirked as she got up the brew her tea. Her tent-mate would surely be awake now. Indeed, half the camp would probably come to at the summons of that kettle. Mrs. Weasley had sent it along with Ginny and Blaise amidst many tears and made them promise never to replace it.

"It'll bring you good luck, dears," she had sniffled. "I had it during the last war … and now –" Blaise didn't like to think about the horrible sobs of Mrs. Weasley on her daughter's leaving. Blaise was mortified at the sobs on _her_ leaving. Little she deserved the love of a Mrs. Weasley.

"Got another cup, Zabini?" a hoarse voice said from the doorway.

"I thought you have loads of important training tomorrow," Blaise said sullenly, nevertheless reaching into the cupboard and extracting another chipped mug that said "World's Most Magical Dad" and had red and gold hearts on.

_Revolting_. Blaise draped a tea strainer over the side and poured water over it. She handed the cup to her companion and reseated herself with her own mug, which, to her dismay, featured the words "Property of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Takes Girls for Rides on His Broomstick". Harry's seventeenth birthday had not been a quiet one and Draco was largely to blame.

"I _do _have loads of important training tomorrow," Ginny retorted. Blaise appreciated the interruption of her reverie. "But how can I possibly sleep when you're slamming about the place at all hours?"

"Oh, bite me," Blaise sulked into her mug. "I can't sleep because of this bloody heat."

Ginny paused. "And so you started a fire?"

Blaise glared at her. "It's heatless, you know."

Ginny shrugged. "Sorry." Blaise raised her eyebrows. Ginny bit her lip. "Okay, so I wasn't really sleeping. But you could still respect your flat mate."

"It would be thrilling to actually be able to say that we're flat mates without sounding mad because we don't actually have a flat," Blaise grouched.

"Well," the redhead said thoughtfully, "someday we _may_ have a flat. We might as well adjust."

"And why would I want to have a flat with you, exactly?" Blaise demanded. She was not a morning person, but she was ten times worse when she couldn't sleep at all.

A red eyebrow disappeared into redder fringe. "Are you serious? Who _would_ you live with, exactly? Bulstrode? Parkinson?"

Blaise winced, annoyed that her friend had a point. She had spent almost seven years in close quarters with Millicent and Pansy and had sworn before witnesses that she would never live with either again. Whether the snores or the constant stream of additional occupants was worse, Blaise couldn't say.

"What's your schedule like tomorrow?" Ginny asked, taking a sip of tea.

Blaise smiled grimly. "Divided between patrols and more mapping of the village. We think we know where the Death Eaters' hideout is, but we need to not actually enter the town until we're sure."

"Do I get to know how close you are to finding Lucius Malfoy?"

Blaise sighed a world-weary sigh. "Gin, you know I'm not supposed to talk about that." Ginny's eyes narrowed and Blaise grinned. "But since it's you …"

"Too right," Ginny said stoutly. "I wouldn't want to have to …" she waved her mug menacingly "… _torture_ it out of you."

Blaise's eyebrows shot up.

"We've just finished interrogation in training," Ginny explained with a shark-toothed grin.

"Something I'm sure you excel at," Blaise said, thinking of all of the times she had seen Ginny, with little or no effort, extract information from her father and brothers in minutes, which they swore to take to the grave.

"So what's new with the Malfoys?" Ginny asked, leaning forward.

"What, doesn't Draco keep you posted?" Blaise sneered with liberal insinuation.

"Please," Ginny snorted, the implication rolling off her like water. "He glories in secrecy. Don't think he doesn't imply every kind juicy tidbit, though. If Harry were here …" Ginny winced, looking down at her chipped mug. "Sorry."

"So …" Blaise said immediately, unwilling to let the silence carry on. "The Malfoys. The truth is that we think he may be part of this group we're tracking right now."

Ginny looked up quickly, leaning forward across the table. "So _that's_ why you won't go into the town, really. You think you have a handle on Malfoy's group."

"Sure." Blaise took a sip of tea. "I mean, we know Malfoys would never be caught dead in a tent, so it can't be one of the groups hiding in woodland areas. And we have a lead on Narcissa Malfoy here. Her sister, Bellatrix LeStrange was reported in this area shortly after an attack on a Muggle house." Ginny gasped. "Don't worry, we had already cleared the house. The son was Muggleborn. But you know that they've probably realized that we're already onto them and may be moving out soon. That's why we've been in a rush to map the town."

"Explains Draco's enthusiasm, anyway," Ginny muttered.

"The other problem," Blaise went on, "is that there's a safe house not five miles off. We're concerned that LeStrange and her group might have a tip on it, if they _are_ hiding in this town. It would explain their presence here. If Harry were here with the Marauder's Map …" It was Blaise's turn to look away. She bit her lip, looking sideways into the fire.

"Look, I'm sorry, Zabini, but I have to ask," Ginny cut in, not looking at Blaise. "Do you know where Harry is? Are Ron and Hermione with him? I mean … well, you have the inside track, don't you? Surely someone's spoken about it to you by now. And … Ron's my brother," she said quickly. "I'm really worried."

It was Blaise's turn to avoid Ginny's sharp eye. "I've heard nothing." Catching Ginny's look, Blaise added impatiently, "For Merlin's sake, give me some credit, Weasley. I know how important your brother is to you and I would at least tell you if I knew where _he_ was. And I know you're worried about Potter. But you know that the last time I saw Harry was when you did, right before he went back to Hogwarts. I assume your brother's there, too. Harry mentioned something about it. Dumbledore doesn't trust _anyone_. He didn't even tell _Harry_ why he was being recalled." Blaise bit her lip. They all had a fairly good idea, even if neither she nor Ginny mentioned it aloud.

"Right," Ginny said, exhaling hard. She tried a smile. "Hey, at least I know where five of my brothers are. Reckon that counts for something, doesn't it?" Blaise finally looked at her. The smile didn't really work, but Ginny kept on determinedly. "I mean, it's Ron and Harry. The Dream Team. They're always getting into scrapes and they're always fine. And if they're together, they've got even better odds. They would never let anything happen to each other." The smile relaxed a bit. "And if they've got Hermione, they're really set. Hermione can think her way out of anything."

"Of course," Blaise said mechanically. She had less faith in Granger's brain than Ginny, but had to admit that Harry's odds were better with a thinker at his side.

"I'm kind of tired," Ginny said after a long pause. "Think I'll turn in." She tried another smile. "Try not to make so much noise."

"Right. Night, Weasley."

"Night." Ginny dumped her cup haphazardly into the sink, which was to say that she set her cup on top of a tottering pile of dirty dishes, before edging around the fire and heading for the bedroom. Blaise heard the door shut quietly behind her and the faint rustle of turning bedclothes. Then silence filled tent.

Blaise couldn't help it – her mind immediately returned to Harry. It did that a lot.

"_This is no time for – well, whatever you two are up to."_

"_Friends?"_

Blaise bit her lip. Sure; friendship had done well for them both. After their fateful almost-shag on the bathroom floor of 5 Inmind St., they had both made a creditable effort at separating themselves romantically. They had done well, although Pansy spent a lot of time complaining that Blaise was dull and boring, and Ron Weasley spent a lot of time complaining that "this is worse than the Cho fiasco, Harry!" At first, keeping their hands off each other meant spending much less time together. Blaise went to a lot of bother not to be in the same room with Harry for more than five minutes and threw all of her attention into two projects: preparing for her N.E.W.T.s and researching the Holy Grail, as per Dumbledore's assignment after the night in his office. Fear that she would fail the former and genuine fascination with the latter helped stave off a good portion of the ache in her chest and kept her sharp attention focused elsewhere.

And when she began to fear that completing her N.E.W.T.s would leave her open to the same ache, she was informed that, should she choose to join the Order of the Phoenix, she would begin training just days after she completed her N.E.W.T.s. Blaise accepted immediately and also sagged with relief when she discovered that she and Harry would be training under totally different people. With her superb eyesight and sense of hearing, Blaise immediately went into stealth and espionage training with Nymphadora Tonks. Several members of the Order tried to warn her beforehand that Tonks was by far the least stealthy Auror ever to be in the Order, but Blaise ignored them in favor of keeping herself occupied, and thus had rather a trying time for the first month. Tonks had had to study particularly hard to pass stealth and espionage in her Auror training, so her knowledge of it was extensive. In practice, unfortunately, she was a dreadful instructor and after a while, she took to simply giving Blaise directions and observing her. Once they had that sorted, training went much more smoothly.

With time, much of the ache in Blaise's chest dulled, making it possible to spend more than ten minutes in Harry's company without wanting to cry and scream at the same time. Eventually, she could have decent conversations on general topics. By Christmas, they had had a long talk, instigated by Harry, about the failed relationship and the friendship which he insisted would be material in getting them both through the war.

"I still need you," he had told her quietly, under cover of a lively caroling session led by Fred, George, and Ginny (arguably the three most tone-deaf Weasleys). "It's just – a different need."

Blaise knew him better than to believe that he really meant it, but observing that he was trying very hard to convince her, she played along. "I know. I'll be around. If Tonks doesn't get me killed during training."

"What's she got you doing?" Harry wanted to know, his lip twitching.

"Sabotage with Muggle weapons," was all Blaise said to cause Harry to wince in sympathy.

"Try not to loose an arm," he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Blaise closed her eyes, blocking out the tent's kitchen and the merry fire. From Christmas on, things had been much easier between them and the war had picked up enough that had she still been harboring sharply painful feelings for him, she would have been too distracted to give them more than a fleeting thought. With Hogwarts empty of students and remaining Death Eaters, Dumbledore had been convinced to turn it into the base of operations. The choice couldn't have been made soon enough, since a traitor within the Order (though fortunately not high-level) was known to have been trying to slip the Dark Lord the coordinates of 5 Inmind St. Only days after the last members and high-level Death Eater's children had been moved, Death Eaters had stormed number 5. Snape later weeded out the traitor (someone Blaise didn't know called Umbridge) before they could pass on the new headquarters to the Dark Lord, and Blaise knew that she was being kept under careful lock and key in Hogwarts.

Shortly after the move to Hogwarts, almost in tandem with the attack on 5 Inmind St., Draco, Ron Weasley, and Remus Lupin disappeared for several days into the Slytherin dungeons and returned tired, hungry, irritable, and with several brilliantly innovative designs for better safe houses. Blaise remembered wondering at the time how and why the three of them wound up collaborating and how in Merlin's name Draco and Weasley had managed _not_ to gut each other.

"It helped, I think," Lupin had quietly told Blaise, Granger, and Ginny, "that Ron is quite a brilliant architect. Draco was so busy trying to out-think him that he hadn't much time for bickering."

"And Ron has a one-track mind," Granger said, lip twitching. "He's the same with chess. Nothing disturbs him when he's at chess."

Meanwhile, older safe houses across the country, hastily created for high-risk Muggle families, in addition to the ones still housing Hogwarts students, were beginning to come under attack. Blaise recognized the danger of the Dark Lord's strategy. Having mobilized small pockets of Death Eaters, rather than an obvious army, he was picking off groups quietly and subtly, so that the damage and danger didn't seem considerable until one actually began to take a careful look at the numbers.

Blaise shivered, considering that if anyone but Dumbledore had been in charge, this strategy might have completely immobilized the Order. But Dumbledore _was_ in charge and had taken immediate action against the small, slippery forces deployed across Britain by the Dark Lord.

In April, a year after Harry and Draco had been expelled, the Order began sending out mobile forces of its members to track down Death Eater groups and to protect the safe houses while the new ones were being built. Auror groups were also overseeing the transfer of groups from old to new safe houses. These groups slept in tents and went out for weeks at a time, scouring the countryside for hidden Death Eater camps and posting round-the-clock guard at various at-risk safe houses.

Blaise completed her training by the end of May, along with Harry and Draco, and was immediately sent out with them to the Midlands to begin a town-by-town search for a Death Eater hideout known to be located there. Along with several highly trained Aurors, they set up camp several miles from each town and did comprehensive sweeps.

Blaise remembered someone – Draco or Ginny – trying to reassure themself that since they were all new to the Order none of them would wind up on the front lines fresh out of training. She snorted. So much for _that_ theory.

Blaise took a sip of tepid tea and smiled crookedly. Ginny had somehow manipulated her way onto their team. Blaise supposed she had used the fact that her brother Bill was on their mobile team and was also her head trainer to convince HQ to let her come along. Between them, Bill and Draco were training her in various fields. Blaise vaguely recalled seeing Bill and Ginny practicing sabotaging Harry's tent. Ginny had also said that Draco was working with her on hand-to-hand combat. Blaise let a full smile escape. The irony of Draco Malfoy, proud and pompous Pureblood wizard, having a natural affinity for down-and-dirty Muggle wrestling, boxing, and Martial Arts, was something that Harry in particular would never, ever let him live down.

Blaise sighed, her expression drooping. Things had been good when the four of them had been on one team. At first, Harry had been regretted being separated from Ron and Hermione, but had also be pleased to be with Draco, Blaise, and Ginny. They worked particularly well as a team, something Remus Lupin had been quick to notice during group training sessions (some of which Ginny had weaseled her way into, even before finishing her N.E.W.T.s). Their first few assignments together had been short and lower risk, as they were newer and had fewer top-level Aurors with them. As a result, they had enough work to keep them busy and feeling useful, without having to contend with anything particularly life-threatening.

And then Harry had been recalled to the school. Blaise bit her lip savagely, forcing herself to think back over it. He hadn't had to tell any of them why he was recalled. They all knew what it meant.

_Neither can live while the other survives_.

The prophecy revealed to Harry during the summer after graduation had changed everything. In the beginning, it had dramatically expanded the abyss between Harry and Blaise. In fact, for a time it had expanded the abyss between Harry and all of his friends. He wouldn't speak to Ron Weasley at all, and all of Granger's cajoling and perseverance was futile to check to depression so evident to everyone in the house. Draco had ranted and raved and stormed about "selfish bastards who have to take everything on themselves, damn them" and Weasley had pummeled him for it. Harry himself had broken up the fight, and then been roundly told off by both Draco and Ron for being so bloody stubborn that he didn't even trust his own friends.

The bite had stung, but convinced Harry that his friends cared enough for him to keep the secret and help him complete what could be his final mission. He took Weasley, Draco, Granger, Blaise, and Ginny into his confidence and told them everything he could about the prophecy. Only he could destroy the Dark Lord. Only he had the power.

"But that doesn't mean we all can't help you figure out _how_, right?" Weasley asked bracingly. "Six heads are better than one and all that."

"Exactly," Granger said in a tone that irritated Blaise but seemed to bolster Harry for some reason. "Zabini and I were the brightest witches in our year. Surely we can figure something out."

Though they hadn't come up with anything staggering, they never stopped brainstorming. Even as Harry worked through the weight of the prophecy and came to terms with it, they all kept his mission in the back of their minds, in case of epiphany or inspiration.

When Harry was called back to the school, Ginny, Draco, and Blaise were pretty sure they knew why and they confronted him.

"It's Voldemort, isn't it?" Ginny asked anxiously. "You're going after him, aren't you?"

Harry looked mightily guilty. "No, not exactly."

"What, then?" Draco demanded. "Fess up, Potter. We're not stupid, you know."

"And we want to come," Blaise said firmly. "You can't do it alone and you know it."

"I'm not _doing_ anything yet," Harry said sharply. When they had all looked surprised, he sighed. "Sorry. Nothing's final. But Dumbledore expressly told me to come back without you. He says you two," indicating Blaise and Draco, "are two of the best and most trustworthy Order operatives he's got right now and he needs you to find Lucius Malfoy. And Gin, you know you wouldn't be allowed to help since you're still training."

"Bloody typical," Ginny mumbled, but they all knew Harry was right.

And so he left. He didn't tell them when he was going, but one afternoon he found Ginny and Draco going over the Five Steps of Successful Wizard Duels just outside Ginny and Blaise's tent. He didn't say anything, but as Blaise came through the tent flap after a short nap, Harry caught her in a tight hug and held her there for a long moment. Just when Blaise began to feel uncomfortably like she was reliving a moment from the not-too-distant past, Harry pulled quickly away and turned to Ginny. Ginny watched him quietly, and it seemed to Blaise's too-keen eye that they shared something silently in that moment. Then Ginny gave him a quick, bone-crushing hug.

When Harry turned to Draco, the blonde scowled at him in a way reminiscent of their days of constant animosity. Harry nodded to him. Draco grudgingly nodded back.

They didn't see Harry again that day.

Blaise stared out through the casement, watching the hazy clouds vainly attempt to blot out the moon. She wondered where Harry was now. She wondered when they would see each other again.

_His eighteenth birthday's coming up_, she remembered suddenly. And what would he be doing on his birthday? She remembered him saying that until his seventeenth birthday, he had had his birthdays with the Dursleys, who did their best to ignore them. Blaise smiled. No wonder Harry had put up with all of Draco's pranks – he had simply been happy to have family and friends around him.

Family and friends.

Blaise withdrew her eyes from the casement, gulping down the rest of her tea. She went to the sink and gingerly settled her mug on top of the tottering pile. She doused the fire with a wave of her wand.

Family. She thought her of her own parents, undoubtedly working alongside Draco's for the glory and greatness of the Dark Lord. Blaise snorted. Working tirelessly to watch him fall at Harry's feet, she thought forcefully. Having never been close to her family, she had felt numb when she chose to join the fight against their cause. And while she hoped she never met them in a fight, she was, she thought, prepared for such an instance.

She tiptoed down the hall to the bedroom. Not only her parents, but many of her former friends would be against her in fights to come. She remembered Harry saying something about having "close enemies", not friends, in Slytherin. Blaise smiled grimly as she realized that her close enemies had invariably become friends during their time at 5 Inmind St. Millicent and especially Pansy had become as near to genuine friends as Blaise had ever had within her House, and while both of them flatly refused to have anything to do with the war, Blaise didn't begrudge them their ambivalence.

_I wouldn't be here if it weren't for Harry_, she thought with a sardonic smile as she crawled into bed. _I got dragged into this bloody war by a _boy

**)BTG(**

When Draco awoke the next morning, he was annoyed to discover that not only was it already boiling hot, despite the fact that the sun was barely up, but that Ginny Weasley was directly outside the window of the bedroom, stretching.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, flipping over to lie face down on his mattress.

"Even after a year of Order hours, you're still not a morning person, are you?" Bill Weasley asked. Draco turned a grouchy eye sideways to look at his tent-mate and glowered.

"Bill, Draco!" Both men turned their heads as Ginny bounded into the room, looking wide awake and ready for another long, toilsome day of training. "Why are you two still in bed?" she demanded, striding across the room and pulling Draco's pillow out from under his head.

"Hand it over, Weasley!" he said sharply, taking a swipe at the ascending pillow.

"No, you've had it quite long enough," Ginny said brightly, tossing it into a far corner and making for her bother's bed. "As for you, _Billius_ –"

Bill shot out an arm and caught Ginny around the waist as she moved to tip his mattress. She shrieked as she tumbled onto the bed. "Bill, stop it!" She shrieked again as he began mercilessly tickling her sides.

"What have I told you, _Ginevra_, about waking me up in the morning?" He _oomphed_ as Ginny managed to head-butt him in the stomach, but held on tight and went for her feet. If there _were_ Death Eaters nearby, Draco thought absently as he watched the fray, they'd be wide awake by now.

"Bill, geroff!" Ginny bellowed. Somehow she was upside down, her feet kicking dangerously into the air.

"And what have I told you about entering the sleeping quarters of men you're not related to?" Bill said, somehow winking at Draco around Ginny's side.

"All right, all right! I won't ever do it again!" Ginny cried. She was giggling hysterically and tears of laughter were running up her red face.

"I think you're lying," Bill said, as Ginny righted herself and simultaneously tumbled onto the floor. She scrambled away from Bill's bed, consequently ending up with back against Draco's.

"I'm not," she pouted. Then her eyes got big and round and her lower lip stuck out and she blinked up at her oldest brother and Draco was not at all interested in this heinous violation of decency.

"What?" Bill said warily, pushing back the single sheet under which he had been sleeping. Draco wondered how he could manage even that in the humidity.

"Bill, I'm your _favorite_ little sister, aren't I?" Ginny said, blinking up at him and chewing her lip.

"What do you want?" he demanded, backing away. Ginny stared, doe-eyed, up at him. He rolled his eyes. "Fine," he growled. "But don't tell Remus." He turned his back on her.

Ginny squealed and took at flying leap, latching her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He caught her with another _oomph_ and carried her, piggyback, out of the bedroom. A moment later, Draco heard her order Bill to "keep walking, ninny, I'm not _that _big and you barely carried me ten feet. When I was a little girl you used to gallop," and Bill saying, "Oh, for the love of –" And then the uneven footfalls of Bill bounding through the front of the tent.

"Bill, what _are_ you doing?"

"Oh, that's torn it. Thanks a lot, Gin," Bill said, and Draco sat up in time to see Bill dump Ginny unceremoniously onto the grass as Remus Lupin approached, an expression of wonder on his thin face.

"That was a pathetic piggyback ride!" Ginny said, folding her arms pettishly. Then her whole face changed and she gave Bill the evil eye. "Well, I guess I'll just have to ask Draco to give me one instead."

Bill tried to grab hold of her arm, but Ginny darted away and a moment later, reentered the bedroom.

"Don't even think about it, Weasley," Draco warned, lying back down and throwing an arm over his eyes. A moment later the side of his bed sagged and he could smell Ginny's hair. He tried very hard to ignore her, but she just sat there waiting and finally he removed his arm and glared at her. "_What_, Weasley?"

She pouted. "When can we start _training_?"

Draco groaned and covered his eyes again. Never, in his limited but recently very active experience at training or teaching of any kind had Draco had a pupil whom he had to fight off with a broom. Normally, they hid from him or whined pettishly through his training exercises.

Not so, Ginny. She was eager to train and was ready every morning to begin, long before Draco. Draco had toyed with giving her "homework" for a time, but then she expected him to look it over and after a while, he grew weary and accepted that the sooner he had trained her up, the sooner they could get back to – well, whatever had been going on before Dumbledore had paired them together for part of Ginny's training.

"Why are you invading my personal quarters, Weasley?" he said by way of an evasion. "You're overeager at the best of times, but this is getting absurd."

When she didn't immediately respond, Draco uncovered his eyes and looked at her closely. There was definitely an air of guilt about her.

"Well," she said slowly, toying with her cuff. "Only don't be angry, but someone sort of told me we were near some Death Eaters, so …"

"Zabini," Draco muttered darkly, glaring in the general direction of Blaise and Ginny's tent. He turned his eyes on Ginny, rather hopelessly hoping that she would go away. "It wouldn't matter if I trained you starting now and until supper tomorrow without stopping, you still wouldn't be allowed to ambush any Death Eaters with us," he informed her coolly.

"Oh, why _not_?" she whined, and Draco had to quickly avoid her eyes, which had become round and pleading. Telling Ginny no was a dangerous game and he hated to think what would ever happen if he gave in to those eyes.

"You know perfectly well why not," Draco said, sitting up quickly and pushing passed her off the cot. "You're not fully trained and you haven't had your tactical training at all yet. You've only been training for a few months, haven't you?"

He was very sorry indeed that when he turned back she was stretched out on the cot, pouting. He made for the lavatory with all speed, trying to ignore her pleading tones as he retreated.

Mercifully she was outside the tent with Blaise when he returned from a quick shower. Blaise was setting up the mapping that had so far been completed on a table under a large tree and Ginny was trying hard to see the maps. To Draco's supreme annoyance, Blaise wasn't making much of an effort to hide anything. She encouraged Ginny too much – Ginny wasn't officially a full member of the Order yet and had much training to undergo before she _would_ be ready.

It was, Draco thought darkly, all Dumbledore's fault, really. The old bat had allowed Ginny and few other trainees to accompany their trainers to their camps, to get "active, practical experience". And while Draco had to admit that their particular camp wasn't exactly on the front lines, it was still near enough to a potentially dangerous batch of the Dark Lord's followers. Ginny had no business here.

Draco exited the tent just as Bill shunted Ginny away from the mapping area, which was filling up with their small team.

"Weasley!" Draco called. Bill glanced up, shielding his eyes against the sun. Draco winced, rolling his eyes. "_Other_ Weasley," he tried again. Bill nodded and pulled Ginny away from the maps.

"Oh, go on, Bill," she pleaded. "Just a peek."

"I thought you were desperate to start training," Bill retorted. "Draco's all set now. Get to it."

Ginny waited until his back was turned and then stuck out her tongue.

"Heard that!" Bill called without turning.

"Very mature, Weasley."

"Shut up, Malfoy." She was sulking.

"Look," he said, "the sooner you finish your training the sooner it'll be _you_ around the table, yeah?"

"By the time I finish my training," she said with a bite in her voice, "the war will be over." She sighed heavily. "Sorry. I'm just – oh, never mind." She nodded to their little patch of training ground. "Shall we get to it, then?"

Draco had found very quickly that training in this weather required alternation between practical and instruction-based approaches. If they trained too long at combat in the heat, even if they were only dueling, they would wear out and would be no match for anyone if an emergency cropped up in the camp. But simply sitting and studying books, maps, and strategies was boring and, in Draco's opinion, useless without the practical experience. With this in mind, he had devised a system that split their sessions in half and kept Ginny's attention engaged for most of the day.

And so it went. Draco's primary responsibility in the camp was Ginny's training, but in the late afternoon, shortly before tea, he was debriefed about mapping and HQ news by one of the other Order members in camp. After tea, he and Blaise had additional advanced dueling and hand-to-hand training of their own from Lupin, Bill, and a witch called Kirem Balrash. By nightfall, Draco was ready for a snack and his bed. He doubted that he had ever worked so hard in his life.

He doubted, too, whether he had ever been so committed.

"We're at war, you know," Blaise said one evening as they sat together by a smokeless bonfire someone had built up. "We shouldn't be enjoying ourselves."

"Who says we are?" Draco said, tossing a twig into the flames.

"Come off it, this is the best time we've had in ages and you know it," Blaise said, prodding him with a stick on which she had been roasting marshmallows by the handful. "No parents, no school. This is more freedom than we've ever had, Draco."

"Or are ever likely to," he agreed. He paused, kicking a clod of dirt on the ground with his toe. "Do you – I mean, what do you reckon we'll do after the war?"

"Reckon Gin and I will find a flat," Blaise said, shrugging. She knew better than to mention that they had to contend with _surviving_ the war before they could move on after it. "I sort of promised her we would."

"Oh, really." Draco stared into the red and gold flames.

"Hey, _you_ haven't promised her anything," Blaise said, eyeing him shrewdly.

"Drop it, Blaise."

She did, and Draco knew why. She was thinking of Potter.

Draco scowled. Bloody Potter. Where was he now?

"Don't suppose," he ventured, "you've had any word from Golden Boy."

"Why does everyone assume I know where he is all the bleeding time?" Blaise snapped. When Draco gave her an incredulous look, she said shortly, "I'm not his keeper, am I?" and stalked to her tent.

"Well, if _you_ don't tell me, who the hell else do I ask?" he called after her. She politely gave him the finger and disappeared into the tent.

"Well done," Ginny said, sliding over to join him. "You have a staggering way with women, Draco."

"Show me a woman around here –" he began, ducking her arm just in time.

"Watch it," she warned, picking up Blaise's abandoned stick and reaching for the sack of abandoned marshmallows.

"You didn't know what I was going to say," he muttered, watching her warily.

"Oh, really?" Ginny suddenly slid over until she was pressed against his side. Nudging him playfully, she said, "What _were_ you going to say?"

Draco's breath caught in his throat and for a moment, he sat very still, watching the firelight drizzle over her hair. Then he shook himself and stood up. "I don't remember," he lied. "Night, Weasley."

"Good night, Draco," she said coldly. Draco shrugged it off and went to his own tent. She'd be fine by morning. She always was. During training she was sufficiently interested in his lessons to keep her attention from settling on him. It was in quieter moments that she started in on him. He had become an expert at avoiding such confrontations or noticing quickly enough that she was eyeing him in that way that meant trouble.

_Not now_, he thought. _Not ever_. Not when any second one of them might be hurt. Or worse. Draco knew better than to put himself in a position to be emotionally manipulated when a maniac like Voldemort was out there somewhere. When one's mind might be read like a book, there was every reason not to keep anything unnecessary there.

**)BTG(**

Six hours after she'd left Draco by the fire, Ginny lay wide awake in her bed, gazing up at the roof of the tent. The canopy was worn and with little difficulty she could see the stars, though they were still muted by hazy yellow clouds.

She imagined looking through the roof as looking through Draco. Though the roof tried to cover and protect her, she had no difficulty spotting the disturbing, dirty clouds beyond. It tried to protect her from rain, from wind, but she could still see and feel both, easily. Draco tried to protect her by hiding the beyond from her. But she could that beyond – it was his belief in his own inadequacy.

In a weird way, she was reminded of her brothers. For much of her childhood, she had loathed their constant restraint upon her and her activities. She hated it that they did dangerous things all the time, but expected her to sit quietly and cautiously inside, where she mightn't be hurt by anything. It had taken years before she had begun to see beyond that. Certainly, they tried to protect her. But they weren't really protecting her from rogue Bludgers, dark wizards, or magical creatures; at least, not directly. They were protecting her from their fear that _they_ wouldn'tbe able to protect her.

_I have that fear myself_, Ginny thought, watching a cloud caress the moon. _I'm always afraid that my strength won't be enough for those I love_.

She got the feeling that Draco wasn't so much surprised by her refusal to leave him alone as her refusal to be angry when he pushed her away. But she knew how it felt, powerlessness. She knew that the only way he would ever be convinced that they could be together was when he saw that he didn't always need to protect her.

When he saw that he _couldn't_ and learned to accept the fact.

Ginny felt her eyelids grow heavy. He would learn. She had no intention of leaving his side until he did. Ginny grinned a little. Fiery, she might be, but she was also stubborn.

She rolled over and was on the edge of a doze when something caught her attention. At first, she thought it was the wind slapping the side of her tent. Then she realized that the sound was too rhythmic to be a rogue tent line. Carefully, quietly, she rolled her body back onto the center of her cot, seeking the source of the noise. Across the tent, her eyes fell on Blaise. In the faint light of the full moon, Ginny could see Blaise's eyes glittering. Her head was cocked to one side and she was staring at Ginny without seeing her. She was listening, too. Once again, the silence made Ginny wonder if she hadn't just imagined the noise, but soon the rhythmic pattern picked up again.

Muffled footfalls.

Blaise was already sitting up in bed. Ginny hadn't heard her move, and realized with some admiration that Blaise must have been one of Tonks' best students. Blaise motioned to Ginny to sit up as well and Ginny was grateful that she had long ago stopped putting blankets on her bed. Moving slowly and focusing on every moving part of her body, she got to her feet, careful to keep her weight centered and her movements as simple as possible. Blaise was already up and clutching her Caduceus tightly in her hand. Keeping far enough from the side of the tent to avoid casting a shadow, the girls slipped from the room.

A silence exploration of their three-room tent confirmed that no one else was inside. And unless someone had an invisibility cloak, there was no magical concealment afoot. The wards around the camp were designed to recognize magic that did not belong to one of the rightful occupants. Either whoever was sneaking about in the middle of the night was a rightful occupant or (what seemed far more likely to Ginny) they had a pretty good idea of what sorts of edges the wards around the camp included.

Ginny looked to Blaise again; the girl was, after all, _technically_ in charge. Blaise nodded toward the tent flap and they started in that direction. When the reached it, Blaise extended her Caduceus and tapped the tent pole just above the doorway. A trickle of red magic oozed from the wand onto the pole and shot along it. When it reached an intersecting pole that ran to the ground, it trailed down and disappeared. Blaise nodded and stood perfectly still. Still, the only sound was the rhythmic beat that was so quiet it was almost unnoticeable. Ginny's heart pounded and she clenched her wand.

After a minute of tense waiting, Blaise pointed to the floor. Slimy green magic crawled rapidly along the tent poles and stopped before Blaise. She nodded, and flashed and hand signal at Ginny.

_Death Eaters_.

Ginny swallowed hard, but forced herself to think about her training, not her fear.

_How many_? she mouthed to Blaise.

_At least ten; maybe more_.

Ginny bit her lip, a painful spasm in her throat. Ten. Their camp included fifteen altogether. And Ginny wasn't the only fresh meat.

Blaise waved a hand in front of Ginny's face, and Ginny jumped. Her eyes having adjusted to the dark long ago, Ginny could see Blaise's eyebrow raised in question.

_Are you ready for this_?

Ginny gave her a firm nod, tightening her grip on her wand and raising it slightly. Blaise nodded grimly. They both knew the procedure for the moment. Stay in the tent and wait for orders from higher up. Ginny was therefore surprised when Blaise stretched herself out on the floor and lifted the very edge of the tent flap. Ginny squatted beside her, trying to be silent as she lay down and pressed her face to ground, trying to see through the tiny gap between tent and floor.

For a moment, all they could see was clearing and Bill and Draco's tent beside theirs. A hissing breath from Blaise brought Ginny's attention to a pair of boots not three inches away, accompanied by a switch of white cloak. Both girls stayed still, watching the boots pace back and forth. Though Blaise had barely raised the edge of the tent an inch, Ginny felt sure that at any moment the Death Eater was going to look down and see them peering out. She gritted her teeth, her stomach in knots.

After a moment, the boots moved a little way off, and were joined by another pair of boots. At that moment, another slimy green light worked its way along the tent pole, though it tracked Blaise to the floor and stopped in front of her. She dropped the edge of the tent and sat up to examine it.

Ginny nudged her and lifted an eyebrow. Pitching her voice so low that no one closer than a foot would hear (another trick undoubtedly learned from Tonks), Blaise murmured into Ginny's ear. "Your brother says that I'm on diversion duty."

Ginny pointed at herself, trying not to get angry. If _Bill_ was in charge, there was no way in hell she was going to be allowed to go anywhere outside of the tent unless the tent exploded.

"You're with me," Blaise returned. She grinned when Ginny's jaw dropped. "You're not to stray an inch from my side, is that clear, Weasley? No heroics." Her expression was grim. "The Malfoys are probably out there. There's a good chance Bellatrix LeStrange is with them."

Ginny gulped, but nodded her understanding. Blaise motioned her to stand, then leaned close again. "When the blue light appears, we have ten seconds and then we need to get out there and cause as much confusion as possible. I think we're going to hop from tent to tent. Aim for Bill and Draco's first. Then we'll hit Connolly and Digget's, and then on to Lupin and Kelly's. We'll stay in Lupin's for a few minutes because by then the others will have started their attack. We watch, and when we're needed, we'll begin again. Got it?"

Ginny nodded again.

"And if things start to look bad – I go down, or we're outnumbered – you Apparate out of here, you understand? Fuck unlicensed Apparition. You can do it. Get yourself as close as you can to Hogwarts and then get inside the gates and sound the alarm. Is that clear? You've got a mission, too, Weasley. No one else can leave without risking leaving someone behind. It's up to you if things go to shit."

Ginny looked into Blaise's eyes for a long, defiant moment. Like hell she would run if her friends or brother were in trouble! But Blaise lifted her chin, her eyes flashing. Ginny scowled, but bobbed her head one last time in compliance. She straightened up and began a quick self-check that Draco had introduced a couple of days ago.

"You need to know exactly what kind of shape you're in before you go into combat," he had told her. "You need to notice everything. Are you stiff for any reason? I expect you will be if you have to go into battle right after getting out of bed. Do you have any outstanding injuries? Does any part of you feel weak from past injury? Is your mind clear? Do you know exactly what to do, so that even if your brain shuts down in the middle of battle your body will keep going automatically?"

Ginny fixed her goal in her mind, as she would a pushpin to a wall. Diversionary tactics were simple – call as much attention to yourself as possible while you run for it. Use as many bright, flashy spells as possible and make yourself _im_possible to ignore. At the same time, use spells that can add to your own protection. Spells that inhibit basic senses, such as sound repressors, illumination enhancers, and weather inducers.

Both girls stood before the tent flap for another minute, waiting for the signal. It came, a blue blob of magic that moved up to sit in from of Blaise on the tent pole. Blaise lifted her hands and began a countdown with her fingers. Ginny finished her self-check and felt her adrenaline surge. Throughout school, she had experienced a variety of action-packed, often terrifying, adventures. And yet, none of them quite compared to this. This was real. This was war.

With a sudden, impressive surge of energy and accompanying yell, Blaise burst through the tent flap. Before she had time to register what she was doing, Ginny was through the flap as well, yelling and waving her wand. Illumination spells engulfed them as Ginny and Blaise simultaneously began firing Lumos spells in every direction. Though blinded by their own spells, Ginny and Blaise could hear an explosive rush of noise as the rest of the camp came to life in as a synchronized unit. Ginny registered the abrupt change in volume only peripherally. As she had anticipated prior to battle, her mind had frozen and she was relying completely on instinct. Her instinct told her to follow Blaise and keep firing distracting, noisy illumination spells, so that was what she did.

The next thing her mind registered was the inside of a tent. Blaise had pulled her through the flap of Bill and Draco's tent. Both girls dropped to the ground, crouching low and listening to the cacophony of shouted spells, explosions of misfired spells, and the cries of the fallen. Ginny's blood was on fire, her adrenaline pumping. Her hand clutching her wand shook.

"All right?" Blaise murmured, flicking her wand compulsively against her knee.

"Fine," Ginny breathed, trying to calm herself a bit before the next run. She knew they couldn't stay there for more than a few seconds.

"Let's see where we're needed before we take off again," Blaise said, dropping to her stomach and lifting the edge of the tent. Ginny stretched out beside her. It was very hard to see anything, what with booted feet flashing past, spell vapors hanging like dank clouds over every part of the camp, and trained warriors moving so fast that their movements were impossible to follow.

"I think we'll stick to the plan and head for Connolly and Digget's tent next," Blaise mumbled, abruptly getting to her feet and heading for the other side of Bill and Draco's tent. Ginny followed, wiping a sweaty palm against the rough fabric of her pajama shorts. The other end of the tent turned out to be the kitchen and Ginny saw, with no small degree of surprise, that the table was set for tea. Apparently, Bill and Draco had been having trouble sleeping as well. Ginny was strangely glad that they seemed to be forming a connection.

Blaise had reached the back door. "Come on, Gin, stick close," she ordered, her hand on the doorknob. Ginny hurried to her friend, clearing her mind and focusing on her goal:

_Make it to Connolly and Digget's tent_.

Taking a deep breath, Blaise counted to three aloud and then shoved the door open. Had the situation not been so dire, Ginny would have laughed when the door slammed into the back of a Death Eater in a face-off with Digget.

"Thanks!" the old Auror called, before charging off into the thick of the fight again.

"_Lumos maximus_!"

Blaise and Ginny tore through the battle again, barely able to see as the light of their spells exploded around them. During this second run, Ginny found herself registering more specifically what was going on. She could tell when she and Blaise caught a Death Eater off-guard. She could tell when they helped a companion in distress. The members of the camp knew what Blaise and Ginny's job was and knew to stay out of the way when they came barreling through. The Death Eaters had no way of knowing what the girls were doing or what their motives were and were thus taken totally unawares by the manic pair charging about without any seeming pattern or design.

This time, Blaise led Ginny round the back of the target tent, ducking through the kitchen door, which was at an angle that would make it difficult for anyone fighting (namely Death Eaters) to see. Ginny slammed the door shut behind them and the girls sank to the floor, gasping for breath. The combined effort of running flat out and firing continuous spells was draining, despite the ever-present adrenaline.

"All right?" Blaise asked again. Ginny nodded, unable for the moment, to do anything apart from suck in as much air as her lunges would hold.

"I think we were actually a help this time," Blaise panted, smirking faintly. "I know we got that Death Eater aiming for Digget with a Confundus charm."

"And I think … I think we got between that huge Death Eater and Bill right in the nick of time, too," Ginny added, when her breathing became steadier.

"Good," Blaise mumbled. She got to her feet and, keeping low, crept across the tent. Once again, she lifted the edge of the tent just enough for them to see under and they took a survey of the battlefield.

"Looks like that gap between here and Lupin and Kelly's tent is just where we're needed at the moment," Blaise whispered with satisfaction. "Come on."

They got to their feet and hurried to the side of Connolly and Digget's tent that was nearest to Lupin and Kelly's. Ginny felt her adrenaline win a battle over her fatigue and gripped her wand.

Blaise counted, and they ran, throwing themselves dangerous into the middle of duels and generally causing as much confusion as they could. When they reached Lupin's tent, Blaise suddenly grabbed Ginny's arm. The next moment, Ginny felt as though she were being squeezed through a straw. She gasped, her chest heaving against a heavy pressure. Suddenly, she was standing in Lupin and Kelly's tent, gasping for air.

"Sorry about that," Blaise wheezed, pulling Ginny to the ground with the hand still gripping her arm. She was breathing even harder than Ginny, her chest struggling with exertion.

"What the hell happened?" Ginny demanded, rubbing her own chest, which was still aching from the intense pressure.

"Tandem Apparition," Blaise managed to say, before allowing her head to drop onto the floor of the tent. "Had to," she added with some effort. "We accidentally threw ourselves in between a two-on-two confrontation and I saw about ten spells headed our way. Had we just dropped to the ground, we would have been a huge liability to our fighters." She stopped to breathe for a moment before adding, "Besides, this way if someone saw us tent hopping and was following us, they won't know where we are now."

Ginny had to agree that Blaise's quick thinking had probably saved several lives besides their own, but she was still somewhat shaken by the Apparition. Tandem Apparition was uncomfortable even when the wizard doing it had years of experience. In Blaise's case, she had had plenty of emergency training, but, Ginny suspected, little practical experience.

Ginny glanced down at her friend. Blaise was lying with her eyes closed, chest still rising and falling far too sharply.

"Shall I go have a look at the battle?" Ginny asked, shocked at her own inability to take control of the situation. Perhaps she had fallen to quickly into a feeling of security with Blaise in command.

"Crawl," Blaise muttered, managing to look annoyed even while utterly flattened. "Try to stay away from walls where you'll cast a shadow."

"I know," Ginny said. She rolled onto her hands and knees and tottered across the tent into the bedroom, which was nearest to Blaise and Ginny's own tent. She was just passing the nearest bed when she heard a low growl and felt a breath of air against her neck. Fortunately, she was too terrified to utter a sound, but not too terrified to push herself away and scramble far enough back to see what had made the noise.

A wolf lay on the floor of the bedroom. Ginny could see its outline and the outline of its raised head. For a moment, she had no idea what to do. Then her brain kicked in and she took a closer look.

"Professor Lupin?" she breathed, staring hard at the shadowy animal. For a moment, the animal didn't seem to respond. Then slowly, its head nodded. Ginny sagged back against the doorway of the bedroom in overwhelming relief. She began to shake, the combination of terror and adrenaline catching up with her in a rush.

"Ginny?" Blaise's thin voice hissed from the front room. An instant later, Blaise was at her side. She was no longer gasping. Ginny felt a sense of immense relief that she wasn't alone anymore.

"I'm fine," Ginny murmured. "It's just Professor Lupin." She pointed toward the wolf.

Blaise jumped, swinging her wand around when she saw the dark shape in front of them.

"No, he's fine," Ginny assured her, stepping quickly in front of the raised Caduceus. "Trust me, he's had his potion. I was about an inch from his mouth when I realized he was there."

Although Blaise lowered her wand, Ginny could see that, far from looking reassured, she looked anxious.

"What is it?" Ginny demanded.

Blaise took a deep breath. "Shit," she said.

"What?" Ginny demanded again.

"Voice down!" Blaise hissed. "So it's fine and dandy that he's a harmless wolf. But by _harmless_, we're also talking _helpless_. If Death Eaters get inside the tents, he won't have any power to defend himself. The Wolf's Bane potion takes away every fighting impulse he has, _including_ the impulse to defend himself."

"Oh, no," Ginny breathed. She thought for a moment. "Can't you tandem Apparate with him?"

"There're different Apparition methods with animals than with humans," Blaise murmured. "I've not been trained with them." She paused. Lupin whimpered. Ginny had never seen him like this before. Tired, he usually was, but he always seemed so self-sufficient, so capable. Now, Ginny felt her heart twist in her chest as she saw him trapped in that useless body, totally unable to lift a paw against anyone. Impulsively, Ginny slid closer to him, reaching out to scratch his chin. He made a snuffling noise and slid closer to her, resting his chin on her knee.

"Suppose you'll want to leash-train him now and take him home with you," Blaise muttered. She winced. "Sorry, Professor." Lupin licked her hand. Blaise rolled her eyes. "Delightful."

"We have to get him out of here," Ginny said. "I don't know what Kelly was thinking, just leaving him."

"There's nothing Kelly could do," Blaise retorted in a whisper. "His job is to defend the camp. I expect by the time he woke up, the Death Eaters were in the camp. Lupin had a better chance in here than trying to sneak off during the fighting. He's safer."

"Until Death Eaters start going through the tents," Ginny shot back.

"You're right," Blaise said grudgingly, her face pinched. "We need one of the Aurors. They're all trained in animal Apparition. If one of them can get outside the Apparition barrier around the camp, they can take Lupin to Hogwarts and be back again in a few minutes." Apparition barriers worked in such away that you could Apparate within them, but _only_ within them. To Apparate outside of the area of the barrier, you had to leave the area the barrier protected.

"Which Auror do we want?" Ginny asked, still scratching Lupin's ears.

Blaise stepped over Lupin and stretched out on the floor, peeking under the edge of the tent. She didn't speak for a long moment.

"We want Connolly," she said at last. "She's closest, and doesn't currently have a duel to contend with. She's going to help Draco." Blaise jumped to her feet. "Gin, stay here with Lupin. I'm going to get Connolly."

"But –" Ginny began, hurt that she was being left behind to babysit.

"Orders, Weasley!" Blaise snapped. Ginny glared at her. "Look," Blaise said, taking a deep breath. "You're not fully trained and you wouldn't last long in this type of battle. Besides which," she added over Ginny's protests, "Lupin needs someone to protect him if Death Eaters find their way in. He needs you, Gin."

Having effectively removed the wind from Ginny's sails, Blaise got to her feet and slipped silently from the bedroom.

"Well," Ginny said softly. "Guess it's just you and me, Professor." Lupin rubbed his chin against her knee, snuffling. Ginny sighed, getting a firm grip on her wand and watching the door. She kept up the rhythmic movement of her hand against Lupin's head and neck. Though irritated that she wasn't allowed to join the big fight, Ginny grudgingly understood the importance of her own job. Lupin's life was well worth protecting. The Order needed him and he had given much to it. Ginny recognized the horrific irony that on the night of the full moon, one of the Order's top defenders was totally incapacitated.

_Bet one of the Death Eaters knew he was a werewolf_, Ginny thought bitterly. _If not all of them. _

Lupin whimpered, and Ginny felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up against her fingers.

"What is it, Professor?" Ginny asked, rubbing her knuckles against the crown of his head. Lupin removed his head from her lap and shifted himself backwards until he was under one of the cots. Ginny got to her feet, recognizing that he was trying to tell her someone was very wrong. It was the best he could do. Ginny shifted her wand, facing the door of the bedroom and realizing that she was backed into a corner. She debated about setting up a blocking charm now. She listened hard. She heard shuffling from the kitchen area of the tent.

They could get out of the tent, she knew. They could squeeze under the back of the tent and run for the woods. The problem was that if they were seen, they would become a nearly helpless target. And Ginny had no way of knowing what Lupin's reaction to a threat would be. The real Lupin would never lose his head. The werewolf Lupin, however…there was a good chance that he would respond poorly to fright. Helpless animals tended to do that.

Fine. The best chance Ginny had was staying where she was, facing the only entrance, and knowing that Blaise was already very likely on her way back with Connolly. Ginny set her teeth, hefted her wand, and waited.

She didn't have to wait long. Lupin whimpered again and suddenly, a Death Eater stood in the doorway. The Death Eater's mask and hood were up, so Ginny had no idea who her assailant was or what gender she was facing. If she were facing another woman, she would have a better shot with hand-to-hand combat. If she was fighting a man, her skill-level with hand-to-hand would probably be insufficient. Ginny swallowed hard. She would have to stick with magic until Blaise got back to give her a hand.

"Oh, how quaint," the Death Eater purred, in a decidedly female voice. "A mother and her pup."

Ginny felt fear bubble in her chest, but bit her cheek against it and said coolly, "Oh, how amusing. A Death Eater who thinks she's clever."

"Do not play with fire, child," the woman advised, not rising to Ginny's insult. "You're in enough trouble already." She glanced past Ginny and clucked. "Oh, dear, Lupin. Having a bad day?"

The wolf under the cot whimpered again. Ginny stepped sideways, blocking Lupin from view and glaring at her assailant. "Your fight's with me. Leave him alone."

The Death Eater laughed harshly. "My dear, I don't think there is going to be much of a fight with you. Anyway, Lupin owes me. He is, after all, one of the glorious band who put me away in Azkaban."

Ginny felt her throat go dry. "Let me guess. Bellatrix LeStrange."

"Word does get round, doesn't it?" Bellatrix said, and with a flourish, she ripped hood and mask from her head. In the darkness, Ginny could make out her outline, as well as her pale eyes.

"Not word _you'd_ care to hear, I expect," Ginny said, wondering if she could simply stall for time until Blaise got back. Bellatrix seemed to be enjoying the banter.

"Does my reputation precede me?" Bellatrix asked, in a voice that could only be described as flattered.

"I'm a friend of Neville Longbottom's, if that's what you mean," Ginny snapped.

"Oh, yes. _Dear_ Neville," Bellatrix murmured, with a deadly hiss in her rich voice that made Ginny burn with fury for Neville and fear for herself and Lupin simultaneously. "I suppose you're the Weasley girl, then?" Ginny started. "Oh, yes, I've heard reports about how close the two of you are. I suppose I should expect a Weasley to keep company with riffraff like Neville Longbottom. Disgraces to the wizarding world should keep together. They're easier to find and torture that way."

"Forgive me, but I think a true example of disgracing the magical world is standing in front of me," Ginny bit out, her whole body shaking. "Unlike you, I don't find it impressive to torture my fellow Purebloods into insanity. I don't think it's amusing to terrorize school children. I don't think it's okay to kill anyone you fancy. But I guess that makes me the loser, doesn't it? Not wanting to be a monster."

"I'm not a monster, my dear," Bellatrix breathed, taking a step toward Ginny. Ginny took a hasty step back, keeping herself firmly between Bellatrix's wand and Lupin. "I'm a purifier. You wouldn't understand, you're far too young."

"Let me guess," Ginny offered. "Purebloods used to rule the roost in the wizarding world. The bloodlines weren't _tainted_ but Muggle blood. We must end the contamination so we can all go back to being incestuous producers of increasingly unstable children who invariably grow up to be just like Voldemort."

"Don't you dare profane the name of the greatest sorcerer in the world," Bellatrix snarled, taking another set toward Ginny.

"I didn't," Ginny said stoutly. Her next step back brought her up against the cot. The next thing she knew, her head snapped sideways and her cheek exploded into sharp, stinging pain. Bellatrix withdrew her hand.

"That's the very least I can do to make you hurt, Miss Weasley," she said darkly. Ginny heard an unstable wobble in the Death Eater's voice, and for the first time, pure terror shot through her. She was facing the woman who was known to have used the Crucio as a hobby during the first war against Lord Voldemort. Ginny's knees shook, but she forced herself to remain standing and ignore the throb of her cheek. Bellatrix must have seen the fear in Ginny's eyes, because she laughed mockingly. "Now, before you soil yourself, Miss Weasley, kindly get out of the way so I can have a word with your dear Professor Lupin."

Every inch of Ginny wanted to step aside. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. Quite irrationally, she wanted her mother.

Then Lupin whimpered again. Suddenly, Ginny felt her fear ebb. She was needed. Someone else was curled up in a ball. Someone else needed a mother.

"No," Ginny growled, spreading her legs and settling her weight into a fighter's stance. She hefted her wand. She was needed. Whatever happened, she would keep herself between Lupin and Bellatrix for as long as she possibly could.

"Are you sure, girl?" Bellatrix asked, sounding menacingly amused. "If you move, I promise you your end will be swift and painless."

"See, that's what you just don't get, LeStrange," Ginny somehow found herself saying. "It's why you'll never beat us, even if you strike me down tonight. You don't understand what it means to protect someone else. You don't understand what it means to be loyal to those you love and respect, and know that they'll be just as loyal and protective of you." Ginny snorted. "I doubt _you've_ been loved a day in your life."

"All this rubbish about _love_," Bellatrix snarled. "It's not going to save you, little girl."

Ginny smiled shakily. "It's not meant to, you pathetic little worm worshiper. And yeah, by worm I mean Tom Riddle."

Ginny wasn't really surprised when her world burst into a shower of blinding pain before she could lift her wand. And though she was consumed by it, and wished the end would come quickly, she couldn't help feeling a final flash of pride at what she had done. She had stood between a friend and darkness.

_I'm ready to join the Order_, was her last irrational thought before she blacked out.

**)BTG(**

To Be Concluded ….


	20. NEW! Bridging the Gap: Part 4

_**A/N:**_ Going on five years (in October). That's how long this saga has been going. Feels like a lifetime to me as a writer. In a way, it represents a huge chunk of important growth in my writing (which is, I think, evident in earlier chapters). I don't know how I'll get on without having to worry about writing _another chapter of War's End_.

As you can see, I've incorporated "Bridging the Gap" into "War's End," and there's a good reason. This is the original epilogue – the one that should have been, but that became so long that it was, originally, billed as its own story. Now it is complete, thanks to this final chapter, so it should really be one great long saga. Now it is and that brings me joy!

Most importantly, it's done before the "Deathly Hallows" release in two days! I'm so thrilled!! My goal was to have this piece done before "Deathly Hallows" and I've made it – well, just barely, but I did make it!

A big, fatty thank you to all my readers. I've been getting email alerts on a daily basis now about reviews, but many of you wonderful readers have also tagged me with author alerts, favorite author, favorite story, etc. That means so much, particularly right now when my life is about to change in several drastic ways (end of college, leaving the country for two months, new home, new life, etc). Having your support while I do something timeless and wonderful – i.e. fan fiction – means more to me than I can ever express. Thank you! I adore you all!

Enough prattle. I hope you all enjoy the last update in this crazy adventure. I'm so grateful so many of you decided to come along for the ride

Loves,

J.T.

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good – er, I mean, we own nothing. Yeah . . .

**)BTG(**

Ginny opened her eyes – or thought she did. She was floating in liquid gold and bathed in sunlight. The sunlight against the liquid gold shown with blinding brilliance and soaked Ginny's body with a warmth that sunk into every limb, massaging the ache from her body. She drank in the light.

_I'm back in the womb_, she thought contentedly, and promptly drowned in it.

When she woke again, the gold was gone. The light was gone. She felt as though her body were made of lead. Lead with lots of little needles in. She was a lead pin cushion.

"Ugh," she moaned, trying not to move lest the pain increase.

"Madam Pomphrey, she's coming round!" an eager and indecently loud voice called from someone beyond her closed eyes.

"Weasley, if you can't function without making a racket, get out!" another voice snapped.

"Don't start, you two," came a third voice, which sounded almost as weary as Ginny felt.

"All of you, move!" The unmistakable voice of Madam Pomphrey cut through the squabbling and Ginny heard the scuffling of "all of you" moving away.

"Miss Weasley," Madam Pomphrey said gently, close to Ginny's ear. "Miss Weasley, can you hear me?"

"Mmm," Ginny grunted quietly, wishing she hadn't come to at all.

"I need you to open your eyes, Miss Weasley," Madam Pomphrey said. Her voice was soothing and sunk into Ginny's head, calming the ache. She felt a hand brush her forehead and the dead weight of her body seemed to lighten a bit.

Ginny peeled open her eyes to a dark hospital ward.

"How do you feel?" Madam Pomphrey asked, surveying Ginny with a critical eye.

"Like…a rock," Ginny croaked. "Water?" she asked hopefully.

Madam Pomphrey pointed her wand at a glass on Ginny's bedside table and filled it. Then she supported Ginny's head while Ginny drank as though she had spent a year in the desert. Madam Pomphrey let her drain the glass, filled it again, and let her drink. At length, Ginny leaned back into the pillow.

"What – what happened?" she asked, the ache intensifying as she continued to wake up.

"A healthy bout of the Cruciatus Curse," Madam Pomphrey said grimly. "It's a wonder you came round. After the first week, we began to really worry."

"The _first_ week?" Ginny demanded, struggling to remember what in Merlin's name she had been doing. She remembered the camp and her training with Draco. Then she remembered the attack. There were Death Eaters.

"Professor Lupin!" Ginny cried, sitting bolt upright and crying out simultaneously. She collapsed backward.

"Calm yourself, please!" Madam Pomphrey said firmly. "You'll do yourself an injury and your body is simply not able to handle any more trauma."

Ginny couldn't have moved again if she had wanted to. She blinked against tears. Madam Pomphrey softened a bit.

"Dear, your body and mind have suffered damage. We think you may have experienced more than five minutes of Cruciatus." Madam Pomphrey tucked the sheets in around her and waved her wand over the bed. Several numbers that meant nothing to Ginny appeared against the white linen. Madam Pomphrey shook her head. "If you're to make a full recovery in a reasonable amount of time, you'll need to remain in bed for the rest of the week. I'm going to keep you here for observation."

"Good – can we come in?"

The curtains around the bed had been drawn and the voice came from just beyond.

"One at a time and don't overwhelm her!" Madam Pomphrey ordered.

"I'm coming in!"

"I don't think so! She's _my_ sister."

A third cut in, "When you two are done bickering," and Blaise came through the divide in the curtain, followed by Hermione.

"We'll be quick, Madam Pomphrey," Hermione promised, when the hospital matron opened her mouth to object.

"Very well," she huffed. "But see that those boys behave themselves. Miss Weasley needs her rest and their arguing will certainly not contribute to that." She left.

"How are you, Ginny?" Hermione asked eagerly, hurrying to the bedside with a frantic look of relief that Ginny recognized from past adventures.

"I feel like I was in a stampede – or under one, anyway," Ginny murmured, closing her eyes. "How long was I out?"

"Week and a half," Blaise said, stepping up to the other side of the bed. She bit her lip. "I'm so sorry, Gin."

"Sorry?" Ginny said in surprise, opening her eyes and staring at her friend. "What could you possibly be sorry for?"

"I was supposed to look out for you!" Blaise tugged viciously at a loose thread. "I was in charge of you – you're just a trainee and I – I lost you and when I found you –"

"Zabini's not telling you everything," Hermione interrupted, holding up a hand. "She saved your life, Ginny."

"Barely!" Blaise snapped. "I shouldn't have left her at all!"

"That's not the point." Hermione took Ginny's hand in hers and said, without taking her eyes off Blaise, "From what I hear, Blaise got Bellatrix LeStrange off you just in time. Took her by surprise and sent her scurrying. Then she got you to the Apparation barrier by _carrying_ you and tandem Apparating straight to Hogsmeade. She carried you from Hogsmeade to the school gates and all the way to the hospital wing."

Ginny looked at Blaise. The Slytherin was still glowering at the bed sheets.

"You fought Bellatrix LeStrange?" she asked quietly. "You carried me all the way from Hogsmeade?"

"It was the only way and you almost didn't make it," Blaise mumbled, blinking hard.

"I did make it, though," Ginny said. With tremendous effort, she lifted her free hand and squeezed her friend's arm. "Look, I've never been better."

Blaise let out a reluctant chuckle. "Sure." But she looked a little less unhappy.

"So – we're at Hogwarts?" Ginny said slowly. She had already realized this, of course, but she was trying to collect her thoughts. "And – what happened to the camp?"

"After taking as many Death Eaters as they could, they had to disband," Hermione said. "Most of them came here, but a few went straight off to join other teams."

"And the Malfoys? LeStrange?" Ginny asked tremulously.

"Escaped, but only just." Blaise's fingers knotted around a wad of bed sheet.

"And Bill? Lupin? Draco?" Ginny felt a pang of anxiety in her stomach.

"All fine, although Lupin wasn't in great shape when they brought him in," Blaise said, her hand relaxing a bit.

Ginny felt tears pricking her eyes, sharp with relief.

"And Draco's been hanging round almost every day since you got here," Blaise went on, her voice lightening mischievously. "Been a right nuisance."

"Have not!" came an indignant retort from the other side of the barrier.

Ginny giggled and let Hermione wipe her eyes with a corner of the blanket. "Who else is out there with him?"

"Harry and Ron," Hermione said, grinning as she dabbed. "For the moment, at least, we're all together again."

"I think the gits are about to tear down the curtain, so we'd better let them have a turn with you," Blaise said, rolling her eyes as the curtain around the bed rustled tellingly.

"Take care, Gin," Hermione said, leaning down and kissing her forehead.

"Yeah, hang in there," Blaise said gruffly, gripping Ginny's hand briefly.

The girls left and the boys came pouring into the little space.

"Harry!" Ginny was relieved to see that, whatever he had been recalled to Hogwarts for, it didn't seem to be taking a toll yet.

"Oh, that's nice," Ron sulked. "No joy in seeing your brother, is there?"

"I'm glad to see you, Ron!"

"Oh, all right then." He kissed her cheek. "How are you, Gin?"

"About what you'd expect."

"You do look dreadful," Draco put in. He stood beside Harry at the foot of the bed, his arms folded. "O_w_, Potter!"

"You look lovely," Harry assured her.

"Don't lie, Harry." Ginny couldn't help a smile. She expected their brand of stirring-up would do her good.

"So, what're Healer's Orders?" Ron asked, seating himself on the side of the bed and not releasing her hand.

"Bed rest for the rest of the week, at least," Ginny sighed. It sounded wonderful _now_, but she expected that when her strength returned she would be sorely tempted to attempt an escape.

"Poor Gin." Harry smiled, patting her foot. "Don't worry, though. You'll be fit as a flea in a few days, and we'll break you out."

"That's sweet of you, Harry," she laughed, then groaned when her bruised ribs protested painfully.

"All right, that's enough," Draco spoke up imperiously. He had been rather quiet. "Both of you out. I need a word with Miss Weasley."

"Oh, do you?" Ron taunted.

"Go on, Ron," Ginny said. "I'm fine and I'll see you later?"

"Course you will," Ron said gruffly. He squeezed her hand and nodded to Harry.

"Take care, Gin." Harry patted her foot one last time and followed his friend through the break in the curtains.

Ginny smiled after then before turning her attention to Draco. "Well, Malfoy?"

"Well, Weasley." He tucked his hands into the pockets of his robes and glared at her.

"Okay, it _so_ was not my fault that I was hurt," she insisted.

"Oh, I'd say it was," he growled. "You should have run the second Bellatrix appeared in that tent. What could she have done to Lupin in his wolf form?"

"Apart from take him back to Voldemort for questioning, i.e. _torturing_, and certain death?" Ginny asked, fighting to control her temper and her exhaustion, which lethal combination had caused untold damage before. Her lip trembled traitorously.

"He accepted that risk when he joined the Order," Draco said stubbornly.

"So did I," Ginny retorted. He looked ready to object, so she held up a warning finger. "I don't want to hear it. I made a choice, too. I'm a trainee, but I'm just as much obligated to defend the Order now as I will be when I'm a full member."

Draco didn't say anything. He stood at the foot of her bed, now glaring not at her but at her bed spread. Ginny bit her lip, watching the top of his blonde head and realizing with a sinking feeling in her stomach that this was what Mum had been talking about. It wasn't simply that she hadn't wanted Ginny and Draco involved because they would be distracted from their duty. She didn't want them to suffer the kind of agony Draco must have suffered when no one knew if Ginny would wake up.

"I'm very sorry, Draco." Her voice was so small she wasn't sure he heard her. She closed her eyes and willed him away. She heard footsteps and the rustle of the curtain around the bed.

Then she felt a hand against her cheek. She opened her eyes.

"No, I'm sorry," he said, pressing his hand against her face. "I'm sorry I bloody well can't stop loving you. It would make things so much easier."

Ginny's mind couldn't catch up with his words or the impression of his lips against hers. By the time she had begun to react, he was gone through the curtains, leaving nothing but a ghost behind him.

Ginny laid back and stared at the ceiling, ignoring the tears running passed her ears and into her hair.

Sometime after daybreak, she fell asleep.

**)BTG(**

Not for the first time, Hermione found Harry roaming the common room of Gryffindor Tower, sleepless and impatient, and took him on a late-night stroll.

"Harry," she said as they wandered moon-dappled corridors with no direction in mind. "You need to talk to me. You need to talk to _someone._ You bottle things up and then you make things explode. Explosions aren't good and they're caused by you not telling people when you're bothered." She gave him a patented 'just-so' look. "Therefore, to avoid explosions – literal or emotional – you should talk to me."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered. "Go all logical on me."

Hermione smiled, used to his brand of humor, and took his arm. "I know it's not just waiting around in the castle for something to happen with Voldemort. I've no right to pry, of course – "

"Nor do you need to, I expect," Harry cut in, giving her a nudge. "Know-it-all."

"Well," Hermione said, and he could hear her pleasure at the backward complement. "But, Harry, really. You've never been – " Hermione checked herself and said carefully, "You've never been terribly … _lucky_ with matters of the heart, have you?"

Harry groaned. "Ah, familiar stomping ground. Knew we'd get there eventually."

"I know I bring it up a lot," Hermione admitted. "And I'm sorry. Actually," she amended. "I'm not. I know Ron isn't going to and you need to talk to _someone_."

"What do you want me to say?" he asked in defeat.

"Whatever's on your mind," Hermione said gently.

"It's the usual, I promise," he told her. "Nothing you haven't heard before. I mean, I know I should be thinking about Voldemort, and believe me, I am. But I didn't expect to see Ginny or Draco or Blaise again – at least, not for a long time – and now here they are and it's even harder with Blaise than it was before –"

"And have you considered, as I mention every time this comes up, just _talking_ to her about this?" Hermione asked. "I mean," she went on, an edge in her voice, "far be it from me to challenge the whims of Mrs. Weasley, but she isn't necessarily right."

"About what?" Harry asked.

"You know – she gave Malfoy and Ginny a hard time about having any kind of relationship during this war," Hermione said carefully. Like Harry, Hermione owed Mrs. Weasley a lot and Harry knew she was loathed to be too harsh on the older woman. "I expect her influence had something to do with your decision not to keep on with Blaise."

"Keep on _what_?" Harry demanded, feeling unaccountably defensive.

"Being in love with her," Hermione said bluntly, and Harry actually jumped at the words. "What?" she said. "It's true, isn't it? It was so obvious and you were so happy with her." She pulled him to a halt in a patch of moonlight that shown through a large window. "Harry, I'm one of your closest friends. I've known you longer than anyone except Ron. Really known you, I mean, not just fought with you all the time." Harry knew she was referencing his sudden, inexplicable friendships with Draco and Blaise. He appreciated her tolerance and that she wasn't threatened by the new connections.

Hermione caught his hands and gripped them tightly. "Harry, I've _never_ seen you as happy as you were when you were with Blaise. You had this twinkle in your eye all the time, even when you were exhausted or upset. When you didn't know if she would make it from the safe house to 5 Inmind St., I was scared for you. I knew if she didn't make it for some reason, it would hurt you terribly." Hermione caught his chin and forced him to look her in the eye. "There's something special about you two. Even Ron can't ignore it."

A surprised chuckle escaped Harry. Hermione nudged him, smiling, but her eyes were still serious.

"I think it's the same with Draco and Ginny."

"And you and Ron."

Hermione blushed. "Don't know," she said, with a careless shrug. "And we're not talking about me, are we?"

"No, of course not," Harry said, taking her arm and continuing down the corridor.

"Harry Potter, you wipe that smirk off your face," Hermione ordered.

"But he wears it so well," a new voice said.

Draco and Blaise came into view at the other end of the corridor.

"After all," Draco continued as they met in the middle. "He learned all he knows from me."

"Modest, too," Blaise mumbled, a twitch at the corner of her mouth. Harry liked that twitch, though he thought it best not to give it too much thought.

"Malfoy, just the ferret I've been trying to hunt down the last couple of days," Hermione said brightly, surprising Harry and the Slytherins in one fell swoop.

Draco's expression warped into a passable imitation of his former distain. "And what, Granger, could you possibly have to say that would interest me?"

"Two words," Hermione said. "Color-coded charts."

Draco looked dismayed and bit his lip. "You're a woman of evil means."

"Come on," Hermione said, crossing her arms of over her chest and favoring him with a superior smile. "I know you can't resist the lure of color-coding."

Draco looked piteously at her. Then he looked back and forth between Harry and Blaise. Then he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, go on, then," he muttered, grabbing her arm and dragging her off down the corridor.

"Remember that chart we had to make for Arithmancy in January last year?" Hermione started in immediately.

"Wasn't it a glorious assignment?" Draco said. Harry thought he might be gushing.

"Oh, yes! I was _so_ excited to be making such important charts. Who knew Centaurian astronomy could be so accurate and calculable in the context of Brash Ringle's theories?"

"Surely you're not a Ringle follower," Draco returned. Harry could hear the eye-roll. "Everyone who's studied Marshe's Theory of Extension knows that Ringler's theories were based on incomplete data …" His voice and their footsteps disappeared around a bend in the corridor and the nightly silence returned.

"Well, that was awkwardly contrived," Blaise said at last.

"And only a little totally obvious," Harry agreed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Blaise and Draco had appeared out of nowhere – how much had they heard of Harry and Hermione's conversation?

"I'm a little disappointed in Draco," Blaise said. "He's usually so cunning."

"I guess he's been spending too much time with me," Harry said, shrugging. "I don't really do cunning."

At last, a faint smile flickered across her face. "No, cunning's not really your style."

"Since we agree about that, can I walk you to the kitchens for a snack?" Harry offered, butterflies in his stomach.

The smile returned and stayed. "You've got yourself a date, Potter."

**)BTG(**

Draco knew that Ginny's return to health meant a return to the field and he wasn't quite ready to concede that step. Harry, Git Brother Weasley the Youngest, and Granger had been pulled from the field during a time when every member of the Order who could be spared was needed. Whatever the Dream Team had been pulled for, it was important and it was top secret.

Draco had to know what it was.

Last year around the same time, he would have insisted it was Slytherin curiosity – why did the Dream Team get special castle accommodations? Now, he didn't even bother. He was worried about Harry I-Can-Do-It-All-Alone Potter.

_He's my friend, for Merlin's sake_, Draco reminded himself as he stalked toward the hospital wing for his daily check-up on Ginny. He just knew the git was up to something, and while he trusted Granger to look out for Harry, he didn't like to trust other people with his friend's safety.

The trick would be convincing Potter or Granger to tell him the ultimate plot against the Dark Lord and let him in on the planning. He was sure that between him and Granger (and their stunning color-coded charts) they could come up with something really fool-proof so that Potter went in as well-prepared as possible. One thing that kept niggling at the back of his mind was that Blaise was somehow going to be key. He had absolutely no idea where this persistent little thought was coming from or what it really meant, but he trusted his instincts and they all said that Blaise at least needed to be in on the game plan.

And if Blaise got to stay, Draco would be damned if he would be left out.

And if he stayed, then of course Ginny would need to come with. After all, he was training her and Blaise was in charge of her in times of crisis.

_Fight_ that_ logic_, _Dumbledore_, Draco thought triumphantly.

Draco kept himself busy with these thoughts the rest of the way to the hospital wing, sensible that allowing them to dwell too long on Ginny would make visiting her that much harder. While she had been in serious pain and barely able to move, the thought of ravishing her had not been an attractive one, simply because he wanted to be able to pull her against him, bruise her lips, tangle her hair, and generally give her that "I've been ravished" look that she wore so well. Now that she was on the healthy side (her recovery becoming rapid toward the week's end), he had less of a reason for his restraint. The only thing still holding him back was his fear that seeing her in danger would hurt even more difficult to bear if they became –

If they became what? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Lovers?

Draco snorted. Trite terminology, he thought darkly, then scowled as he realized that he had begun thinking about her without even recognizing the transition.

He paused outside the hospital wing, took a deep breath, and pushed the doors open.

The wing was almost empty. A few of the beds had the hangings drawn, but they were on opposite sides of the wing from Ginny's bed. Her curtains weren't drawn and Draco saw several people already with her.

"Draco!"

Draco crossed to meet them in the middle of the wing, relieved for the momentary delay in visiting Ginny.

"Professor," he nodded. "Nymphadora," he drawled, quirking the usual challenging brow at his cousin.

"_Itty bitty__ cousin Draco_," she retorted, rising to the occasion.

"Please, you two. Don't start," Lupin said, though Draco could see him fighting a smile. "We've already tired Ginny out with our news."

"News?" Draco asked, his eyes still on his cousin.

"Oh, nothing that would interest you, since it's not _about_ you," Tonks said.

"Tonks," Lupin said, shaking his head and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, fine. Spoil my fun," she grumbled. She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave Draco as close to a genuine smile as she had ever given him. "Remus and I are getting married." She grinned a wicked grin. "Want to be the flower girl?"

"All right, we're leaving," Lupin said, offering a hand to Draco. "I'm sure I'll see you again before you leave. Take care, Draco."

"You as well, Professor," Draco said, taking the proffered hand. "And I would offer you congratulations, but I know who you're marrying."

"Oh, sod off, you blonde twerp!" Tonks snapped, and her hair went from bubblegum pink to dark purple as she glared at him.

"Ow, you've struck me in the _heart_, cousin," Draco groaned, pretending to swoon.

"Oh, for –" Lupin took his intended by the arm and dragged her away. She stuck her tongue out at Draco over Lupin's shoulder.

"How very mature," came a tired voice.

Draco took a deep breath, braced himself, and turned to join Ginny in her little section of the hospital wing. He made room for himself on the chair beside the bed and took an observation.

"You're looking better," he said at once.

"Yeah right," she said. She was sitting up against a stack of pillows, but her head lolled back against them.

"I won't be here long," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring way but what he expected sounded rather like a grumble.

"No, stay." Ginny blinked and tried to smile her usual bright smile. It came out rather flat. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, and I'm half giant," he retorted. "Come on, Weasley, time to lie down." He stood and pushed her gently away from the pillows, arranging them and helping her stretch out on her back. She did so, sinking into the pillows and offering a more genuine smile. Draco heart fluttered and he gave it an internal walloping.

"Don't go," Ginny repeated. "Tell me the latest escape plan."

As Ginny began to recover, they had all been sure that she'd make a massive fuss about having to stay cooped up in the hospital wing for another week. To everyone's surprise, she had been very quiet about it. She made feeble jokes about leaving, but nothing more. On one of his first visits, Draco had been trying keep things casual and lighthearted, so he had said the first thing that popped into his head: "I have an escape plan."

Ginny had laughed weakly and said she hoped it involved him carrying her _and _her bed; otherwise, she didn't know how she would manage.

"_This_ is a very good plan," Draco assured her now, absently trailing his fingers up and down her outstretched arm. Also tradition, and eventually she would capture his fingers in hers and he would rub his thumb over the back of her hand until she nodded off to sleep. As long as they stuck to the usual routine (and avoided discussing why were they pretending not to love each other when clearly they did) they were fine.

Ginny listened to his latest scheme with her weary eyes fixed on his face.

"It's foolproof!" he finished with his usual flourish.

"As usual," she quipped, squeezing the fingers she had captured during his long unveiling. Draco chose not to look at her, but couldn't resist brushing the back of her hand with his lips.

"I have a real scheme for you," he said at length. "Tell me what you think."

"I always do," she said, and Draco met her eyes, now faintly lit with mischief in the waning light from the sunny evening outside.

Draco braced himself. "When you get well again," he said slowly. "They'll want us back in the field."

"Of course," she said as stoutly as an exhausted post-traumatic invalid could. She was an impressive woman.

"What if we stayed here and helped Potter and your brother and Granger?" he said very fast.

Ginny bit her lip. "I was hoping someone else would suggest it."

Draco blinked. "You mean you've wanted to stay all along?"

Ginny snorted. "Of course! Why do you think I've not tried to escape from the hospital wing all week?"

Draco didn't like to point out that he thought she hadn't tried to escape from the hospital wing all week because she didn't have the energy, so instead he asked, "What's your plan for convincing old Mighty Knickers Head Master to let us stick around _here_ when we're all needed out _there_ right now?"

"Two words: Blaise Zabini," Ginny said. "Blaise stays, we stay. And my gut tells me that Blaise is key. Something in the research she's been doing about the Holy Grail. I'm sure she's got something we could use."

"And that's how you plan to convince Dumbledore that we're all needed here?" Draco said skeptically, not mentioning his surprise that her gut and his seemed to be in sync about his Slytherin housemate.

"No. I plan to tell him that if we aren't allowed to stay, we're all joining the Death Eaters," Ginny said, raising challenging eyebrows.

Draco bit his lip hard to stifle a laugh. Ginny grinned a roguish grin and squeezed his fingers.

"One of us has to be cunning, you know," she said, burrowing a little further into her blankets and giving him an innocent look.

"Because I am a gentleman, I won't be responding to that with a witty retort," Draco shot back. "Also because I am a gentleman, I will leave you to get some rest so that you'll have the energy to go to Dumbledore tomorrow and deliver our ultimatum."

"It's fool-proof," Ginny said, sticking out her lip. "Don't go just yet."

"On condition that you settle down and sleep before I get kicked out," Draco said firmly, tucking the blankets more snugly around her with his free hand.

"On condition that you kiss me goodnight."

Draco's eyes snapped up, his hand freezing on the blankets. Ginny was staring back, looking tired and a little fierce – no mean feat, as she was lying down.

"I'm serious," she answered his unspoken question. "I'm tired of this, Draco. You want to kiss me and I want you to kiss me. So do it."

Draco stood, pulling his fingers away from hers and turning away. He stared out the window beside her bed, rubbing his hand over his face. The setting sun was almost gone behind the distant hills. The last rays dazzled Draco's eyes and he let them, though he rather wished the light were gone. He couldn't control the twist of his lips, and he was sure Ginny could see him.

"You're brave enough to tell me you love me," Ginny said slowly. "And then you run off."

"Don't do this," Draco cut her off through gritted teeth. "We were going along fine. Don't ruin it."

"There's nothing to ruin," Ginny insisted. Draco couldn't help turning back to her. She looked exhausted; haggard. Despite this, there was a little spark left in her eyes. "We walk on eggshells and pretend we're friends. Believe me, I don't let Harry kiss my hand when he visits."

Draco felt his lip curl at the very idea and despite her gravity, Ginny giggled.

"Calm yourself, Mr. Malfoy," she said. Her laughter died as quickly as it had risen. "But I _am_ serious. I don't care about Mum. I feel like we're wasting time."

She struggled to sit up and Draco was at her side in an instant, without any clear idea how he got there. She leaned against him.

"I love you, Draco," she said into the front of his shirt. "And you love me." She tilted her head back and Draco's heart slammed into his ribs. "What more is there?"

He stared into her face, memorizing every freckle, every fleck of gold in her eyes, every pale highlight in her hair.

"There's a war," he said with a firmness that surprised him. He pulled back, half-pushing, half-supporting Ginny back onto the bed. She stared up at him with narrow eyes. He reached out to touch her cheek, but she turned her face away. For a moment, Draco wanted nothing more than to snap at her and run away. But he loved her. He needed to prove it now or she would never believe him.

"Ginny, look at me," he ordered. He could see her chin trembling, and with gentle fingers, he gripped it and tugged until she turned back to look at him. "Look," he said, trying not to back down under her gaze. "I'm not enjoying this and I'm not taking back anything I've said. But …" He paused, searching for the words. Not the nice words – the true words. "We're young, Gin. Very young and there _is_ a war on. I'm not saying we don't legitimately love each other," he added quickly when she opened her mouth with evident indignation. "But … Gin, I want to be able to kiss you without being afraid it'll be our last kiss. I want to hold you and be willing to let go. I want us to be safe."

"We'll never be safe," Ginny cut in mutinously.

"Then we'll never be able to be happy together," Draco retorted. Ginny looked startled and he took advantage of her surprise to plunge recklessly on. "Suppose we did become … whatever. Partners; a couple; lovers; husband and wife. Suppose we went too far. Suppose, like Potter's parents, we had a child. Ginny," he said desperately, "it's not_ safe_. Do you want to live with the fear your mum lives with every single day? All of her kids are out on battle fields! You've seen what that does to her. And she didn't have a choice. We do."

To his alarm, tears were dribbling down Ginny's face.

"You want to marry me?" she whispered.

Draco rolled his eyes. Not necessarily a wise response, but he felt like he was riding an out-of-control broomstick and he had given up trying to hold on. "Maybe someday. But I don't want to hate that choice, right? I want to make that choice when I'm not rushing into it and when I know that the world will be at least safe enough that I can protect you. I don't know that right now …"

"Oh, Draco." Ginny sniffled loudly and her eyes continued to stream.

"Sleep now," he ordered, his face warming. He bunched up his cuff and brushed the tears from her cheeks, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu, so familiar a feeling that he almost didn't notice.

Ginny stared up at him through wet lashes.

"Please, Gin," he begged. "You're making me nervous."

She gulped a laugh and obediently closed her eyes.

"Stay with me till I fall asleep," she ordered, yawning.

Long after her breathing had slowed and the tear tracks across her face had dried, Draco left the darkened hospital wing, leaving as well some unnamed ghost, some fearful phantom who, he knew, he would never see again.

**)BTG(**

Ginny's release from the hospital wing occurred several days later. The morning after that, Draco called a council of war in the kitchens, where they were waited upon by a gleeful Dobby and his small army of house elves.

After much deliberation, and some coaxing from Blaise and Ginny, Harry was invited, along with Ron and Hermione.

Ginny knew Draco wouldn't want Ron there and knew that he was only a little happier with Hermione. With the unexpected, but welcome, help of Blaise, Ginny tried to explain her reasoning for wanting them in on the secret as well as she could.

"You can't know how important those two are to Harry," she insisted. "They're like his right hand and his … um …"

She was floundering for a fitting simile for Hermione when Blaise put in with no little amusement, "His brain."

Draco snorted. "No doubt Potter needs all the help he can get, but …"

"But, nothing," Ginny said, determined that he not think too hard about this, lest he come up with a good reason not to ask Ron and Hermione. "They have been his friends, more so than any of us, for years. He needs them and in order to convince him that he needs us, we'll need to convince them."

Draco had grumbled, but couldn't argue. Ginny also knew he couldn't deny that he and Ron made a good team, when they weren't taking the mickey out of each other.

And so here they all were, seated on stools around a wooden countertop with about fifteen house elves each trying to feed them. Ginny couldn't help a smile as she watched Harry and Draco simultaneously bite the heads off their gingerbread men and then nibble off the gumdrop eyes one at a time. She felt that for diplomatic reasons it would be unwise to remind Ron how alike his best friend and his favorite enemy were. She _did_ notice Blaise and Hermione watching the two boys with fascination.

"Ahem," Ginny said, and immediately had everyone's attention. "I now call our first official meeting to order."

Ron snorted. "Only official meeting," he corrected. "You lot are being shipped out in a couple days."

"Delicately put," Ginny retorted, and heard a snort from Draco. "Our being 'shipped out' is why Draco, Blaise, and I have called this meeting."

"Oh, really?" Hermione said, and Ginny saw her lip twitching.

"Don't laugh, Mione," Harry chided, his expression both serious and sad. Ginny was heartened – she was sure Harry didn't want them to leave. It would be convincing him to let them stay here _and_ help (rather than simply stay here where he knew they would be safe) that would be the challenge.

"Thank you, Harry," she said primly, hefting her chin and looking around at her friends. She had the untimely realization that they were all older than her. "Now. To business."

"To business," Blaise said, raising her glass of pumpkin juice. Ginny glared at her and she subsided with a cough that clearly masked a laugh. "Sorry, Gin, go on."

"It's like this," Ginny said quickly, realizing that if she didn't get it out there soon, they would be there until the end of the war. "Blaise and Draco and I want to stay here with you lot. For good."

A moment of brittle silence followed. Hermione broke it at last with, "And … I assume you have a good reason for wanting to stay?"

"As a matter of fact, we do," Draco said, sounding defensive to Ginny's ears. "The fact is, Potter needs us."

Ron snorted. "Right. Needs you."

"Don't laugh, Ron!" Ginny glared at her brother. "You haven't even heard us out."

"Right, go on then," Ron said, waving a dismissive hand that clutched a limbless gingerbread man.

"It's like this," Blaise said. "I won't beat about the bush. I'm sure things were much simpler and chummier for you three when you were an exclusive little club. But it's more complicated than that. The three of us – " she indicated herself, Draco, and Ginny – "have our own bond with Harry. And it's just as valid and important as yours. We don't think you can look after Harry all by yourselves anymore, so we're butting in."

"Oh, please. Don't spare us honesty," Hermione cut in, rolling her eyes.

"I can take care of myself!" Harry contributed with no little indignation.

Everyone stared at him a moment, then simultaneously burst out laughing.

"What?" he demanded over the noise.

"You? Look after yourself?" Ron gasped, clutching his sides. "Good one, mate."

"I resent that," Harry muttered.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione gave his arm a reassuring squeeze and Ginny saw Blaise's eyes narrow. "We only know you can't take care of yourself because you _can't_. Also, we love you."

"Whoa, there!" Draco held his hands before him as though warding off the Plague.

"We do," Hermione insisted, a wicked gleam in her eye. "It's okay, Malfoy. This is a safe place to share your _real_ feelings – "

"Hermione, stop," Ron pleaded. He looked revolted.

"I'm begging you," Harry added, looking vaguely ill.

"I promise you Weasley's first-born child if you stop," Draco put in.

Hermione turned bright red and Ron sputtered.

"Before this deteriorates further," Blaise said impatiently over Ginny and Harry's laughter.

"Right," Ginny said, clearing her throat as the others quieted down. "Anyway, like Blaise said, Harry needs all the help he can get. We're the rest of the help he's got. So – we stay."

"Not so fast." Ron eyed his sister with a look she recognized and hated. "Gin, you know what we're helping Harry to do. Why we're at Hogwarts still instead of out in the field."

"And it's not just that," Hermione cut in, probably suspecting that a battle over Ron's protective instincts was building. "Dumbledore pulled the three of us. _Just_ the three of us – Harry, Ron, and I. If he thought Harry needed more help, he would have pulled you, too. But he probably needs you in the field right now. He needs everyone he's got out there."

"But all that field work, Mione." Ginny willed her friend to understand. "It's so Harry can succeed. Without the Dark Lord, his followers will fall to pieces and we won't be _needed_ in the field. The faster Voldemort can be dealt with, the better for everyone. We can help this go faster."

"Gin, surely your parents won't let you stay here," Harry said hesitantly.

"Why?" she demanded. "Bloody well safer here than where I _was_. They'll be thrilled I'm holed up in Hogwarts with Ron to coddle me and put me to bed at a proper hour."

"_I'll_ put you to bed at a proper hour – " Draco began. He yelped and glared at Ron.

"And we're not coming into this empty-handed," Blaise said, quelling Ron and Draco with a look. "On Dumbledore's orders, I've been researching a potentially valuable magical object since I left Hogwarts."

"The Grail?" Draco asked, losing interest in kicking Ron under the table.

"The Grail." Blaise pulled out the Caduceus she kept in a sleeve holster she had acquired for her seventeenth birthday and rolled the stone wand between her hands. "I don't know everything I need to know about the Grail – pieces are still missing – but the Grail _may_ be the key. It may have the power Harry needs stop the Dark Lord." She looked speculatively at Hermione. "Judging by the fact that you're all still hanging round Hogwarts, I assume you've found nothing in your research?"

Hermione looked mightily offended at the idea that her research had been inconclusive, but couldn't argue the point. "I have all kinds of leads, but nothing that stands out or that Voldemort might not know about."

"The Grail is primarily of interest to Muggles," Harry put in thoughtfully. "Blaise told me. Its legends are all Muggle speculation."

"So the Dark Lord isn't likely to want anything to do with them," Draco finished. "And so it could be the unexpected thing that breaks him."

"Exactly," Ginny said. "Blaise has the research, and Draco and I are part of the package deal. It's all of us or none of us."

"Why, though?" Hermione said skeptically. "I'm sure I could dig up loads of information on the Grail. I don't limit myself to research in the wizarding world, you know. I have easy access to Muggle libraries."

"Don't you think I thought of that already, Granger?" Blaise demanded irritably. Ginny suspected she was still sore about the hand-on-the-arm incident. "I was next in our year after you, you know. I've done my Muggle research as well, which is how I know their libraries and data sources have more information about the Grail. But," she paused, then went reluctantly on, "my research, which, may I remind you, I've been doing for over a year, had to be put on hold when I went into the field." She paused again, but this time, Ginny suspected she was doing it for dramatic effect. "But I _do_ have more ideas of where to look and I think I know where to find the missing pieces of information. Only I have access to this information, but I can't get to it alone." She raised challenging brows at Hermione. "So – do we work together or not at all?"

Hermione glared at the countertop. Blaise had trumped _and_ fascinated her in one fell swoop, and everyone at the table knew it. Ginny began to breathe again as she realized that the fight was over. The Grail was now a potentially vital tool for Harry and Ginny knew that intelligent, loving Hermione wouldn't dream of throwing it away.

"Where do you expect to find this information?" she asked grudgingly.

"Hang on a tick," Ron cut in. "No agreements yet. They're not staying."

"Ron, the Grail could be the answer we've been looking for," Hermione retorted. "I don't like it any more than you do, but we need Zabini – "

"Fine, keep Zabini," Ron insisted. "Send Ginny back to Bill – "

"Where she was nearly killed by Bellatrix LeStange?" Hermione snapped. "Don't be ridiculous, Ronald."

"They're staying."

Everyone stared at Harry. He looked back, his eyes dark with decision.

"All of you can stay," he said softly. "I'll fix it with Dumbledore. He told me to use whatever resources were necessary." He grinned a small, lopsided grin. "You've all proven you're more than necessary." He looked around at them all, cleared his throat, and said in a tight voice, "I'm very grateful you're all here."

No one spoke for a long moment. Finally, Draco said, "So … you should probably get going, Potter. Arguing Dumbledore out of two-and-a-half field wizards isn't going to be easy."

Ginny nudged him none-too-gently in the ribs. "Who're you calling 'and-a-half'?"

**)BTG(**

The next three weeks flew by. The six of them spent most of their time in the library. Blaise kept the location of the final pieces of Grail information she needed to herself. She spent a lot of time alone, huddled in the library well after the others had all turned in for the night. She knew Harry worried about her, but she also knew that the faint hint of a plan that had formed in her mind during that first meeting kitchens might just be the answer he needed to end the war.

Oh, she had a plan. But if her plan succeeded, Harry would pay the ultimate price to save them all. Blaise _had _to be sure this plan was the only plan – the only possible way – before she let even a hint of it drop. She wasn't worried that Harry would refuse – quite the contrary.

She had a steadily growing tangle of parchment notes and was adding a fresh roll to a pile one particularly late night when a shadow fell across her.

"Harry, go to bed." She couldn't bare to look at him just then.

"Nope. I've waited long enough," he insisted, sitting cross-legged on the table and staring determinedly down at her. "Tell me what all this rubbish is, or … or I'll get Malfoy up here to help me raid it."

Blaise deposited her last sheaf of parchment, rubbed her eyes, and allowed a small smile. "I just want to get it right. It would be awful if I told you I had a way and I didn't because I missed something." _Or if there was another way that wouldn't cost you so much._

"You're just like Hermione," he grumbled. He went pink. "Except that … Hermione's like my sister."

"Too right. I'd be a terribly sister." The smile grew, in spite of the tightness in her chest.

"I don't know anything about your family," he said in his artless way.

Blaise shifted uncomfortably. "Not much to tell. They all think Purebloods rule the world. They actually belong to a selective group of Purebloods – including Draco's parents – who believe in the Purge."

"The Purge?" Harry leaned forward.

"Basically, it's a Pureblood occult that believes in purging Muggleborns from the wizarding world." Blaise could see them in her mind's eye. "My parents both believe in the Purge. So do my brothers."

"I didn't know you had brothers," Harry said. Something in his eyes, both empathetic and curious, willed Blaise to go on.

"Jesus graduated Hogwarts when I was eight. Hades graduated the year before my first year."

Harry's mouth twisted. "Interesting names."

"Guess where they came from." Blaise rolled her eyes.

"Right; Grail legend." Harry pursed his lips. "But … if the Grail is a Muggle thing, wouldn't your parents want to disassociate themselves from it?"

"They accept it as a legend and part of a family tradition, that's all," Blaise said. "And lucky for us. They'd never bring it up with the Dark Lord."

"And he'd never accept it," Harry murmured. "He's as anti-Muggle as it's possible to be."

"Exactly," Blaise said. "Which is also lucky for us, because that undiscovered myth is going to help you defeat him."

"Please tell me about your research," Harry begged.

Blaise bit her lip, swallowing hard. His eyes were wide and he might have been trying to pout. She looked into his eyes and couldn't bear to take from him whatever time he had left that wouldn't be burdened by the sacrifice she feared to ask of him. He would save the world – but she would do all she could to protect him from his end as long as she could.

"It's a fool's hope, really," she admitted, looking away. "I've done my research, but it's still a long shot."

"The research, or your plan?" Harry asked, not to be deterred.

"The plan depends on the research, but only to a point," Blaise said, rubbing her eyes again. "Please, Harry. Let me sort this out and get back to you."

"All right," he conceded. "But," he added, as Blaise opened her mouth to express surprise at his easy concede, "you can't protect me from this, Blaise." He looked stern all of a sudden. "I already have the prophecy Dumbledore told me about: 'Neither can live while the other survives.' I know my odds and I know they aren't good. I've accepted that."

"I know," she whispered, staring down at her lap. "But _I_ won't accept the odds until I've found the best possible plan. Then we'll see."

"Okay." Blaise glanced up at him and he nodded. "I can accept that. In the meantime, though, Dumbledore has been asking me for a timetable, so the sooner you can tell me …"

"I know," Blaise repeated, shuffling some papers. "But it won't help if I mess up. Give me another week and I'll know if this is going to have a shot or not."

"One week." He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead before unfolding his legs and hopping off the table. "Do try to get some sleep tonight," he added as he left the library.

Blaise closed her eyes, the pressure of his lips still setting her skin tingling. "It's for you," she murmured after him. "I get this right for you."

**)BTG(**

A week later, Draco was wandering a corridor after lunch. He couldn't ever remember feeling more frustrated and stagnant than he did now. He was just wondering if bothering Blaise might be in order when he saw her coming down the corridor toward him. He raised his hand to wave –

He paused when he saw her face. Her eyes were red and dark circles rimmed them. She looked thin, ragged – like she hadn't slept in days. Her glorious dark hair, usually clean and shining, was limp and piled atop her head in a careless knot. In her hand, she clutched a roll of parchment.

"Gather the others and meet me in the kitchen, fifteen minutes," she said dully.

"Blaise, what – "

"I have our answer." She pushed passed him and as he turned, speechless, to watch her retreating back, he saw that the hand clutching the parchment was white-knuckled. Her back was hunched.

Normally, bossiness of any sort brought out the worst in Draco. He stormed, he rampaged, he made himself impossible. A deep sense of foreboding trickled down his spine as his friend disappeared down a flight of stairs. Without losing another moment, he began tracking down the others.

Weasley, Granger, and Harry were, as usual, in the library. The boys were bent forward so far that their noses nearly touched the paper. Clearly, they were feeling the weight of insanity that usually accompanied long session in the library. Granger (naturally) was sitting up straight, with a loaded quill in one hand and five more in her topknot. She had twice the number of books in front of her that the boys did and she was muttering energetically to herself as she read.

"Dream Team," Draco said, out of habit. "Urgent meeting, kitchens, ten minutes."

"What about?" Harry demanded, perking up at once.

Draco shrugged, not sure how to describe Blaise's summons or appearance. "Blaise says she has _the answer_, whatever that means."

"All that time she's spent here has paid off, apparently," Granger said, sounding slightly miffed that she hadn't come to a solution first.

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch," Draco said lazily, enjoying the look on Weasley's face as he sat bolt upright. Teach the git to fall asleep when he was supposed to be researching. "Ten minutes."

Draco left before Weasley could pummel him or drag him into an argument.

He wasn't sure how to find Ginny, but he was in luck and stumbled on her as she descended from Dumbledore's office.

"What were you doing up there?" he asked.

"I started going to see him sort of bi-weekly, right after Harry convinced him to let us all stay," she said. She looked haunted. "Dunno. He's brilliant, but he's old, and it occurred to me that if I want to be the decent witch I went to Hogwarts to learn how to be, I need to learn from Dumbledore." She wouldn't look at him.

"What is it?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. "Apart from the fact that he keeps bringing up that blasted prophesy – you know, 'Neither can live while the other survives' blah blah blah." She twisted her hands together and took another breath. "Five safe houses were raided yesterday. All hit and run. Everyone either dead or missing. Dark Marks appeared over all five." Draco saw her swallow, and knew instinctively what was going on in her head.

"Even if we'd been there, there's no guarantee we could have done anything," he said as forcefully as he could. "Trained wizards, Gin. At least ten full wizards and two or three Aurors assigned to each safe house, remember?"

"I know," she sighed, rubbing the crease in her forehead. "I just – " She stopped, grabbing his sleeve. "Soon, Draco. We have to move soon."

Draco suddenly remembered why he had tracked her down. "Meeting in five in the kitchens. Blaise has a plan."

Ginny's eyes widened and she fell into step with him as he turned to continue down the corridor. "Really? Just now?"

"Go on, Gin, she's been working on it for ages," he said, rolling his eyes.

"I know that, prat," she snapped. He glanced at her in surprise and she met his eyes with a look of silence apology. "What I meant is, this is kind of sudden. She just happens to have this plan?"

Draco thought back to Blaise's haggard appearance and her doomsday expression. "I'm not sure. I feel like – " he paused, glancing sidelong at Ginny. He saw the sharp look in her eye and knew she would understand. She was one of Blaise's best friends, after all. "She looked horrible when she found me," he went on. "Like she wasn't eating, hadn't slept. Whatever her plan is, she's not happy about it."

"Miserable, more like," Ginny returned, her brows knotting in worry. "I hadn't seen her since yesterday at breakfast, but I figured she was probably researching." Draco jumped as Ginny's warm hand slid into his. They didn't often touch. They both knew better – now was not the time. Ginny squeezed his hand anyway and went on, "I bet this isn't something she's just figured out. She's been researching for a while. I reckon," she said softly, her hand tightening around Draco's, "I reckon it's something bad. Whatever it is, it's something she's been trying to find an alternative for. Like, it's worst-case scenario bad, but it's the only way."

Draco swallowed. He had assumed Blaise had found something bad, but he had just assumed it would be dangerous. What if it was something horrible, like Harry having to –

Draco tried to work some moisture into his mouth. He couldn't believe that the mere idea of Harry coming to serious harm was having this affect on him. But then, two years ago, he would never have dreamt of considering Harry one of his closest friends.

Ginny released his hand and snaked an arm around his waist. "Well," she said, her voice thick, "let's not jump to conclusions." She gave him a quick squeeze before letting go, setting her face, and descended the steps ahead of him.

But as they entered the kitchens, Draco knew they were both thinking the same thing: what was worst-case scenario?

When they arrived, they saw that the others were assembled. Harry was trying to talk to Blaise and looked anxious at her worn appearance, but Blaise kept away from him, studying her scroll and replying to his entreaties in monosyllabic bursts.

She saw Draco and Ginny, and waved them to two seats. "Let's get started."

For a moment after they took their seats, she stared blankly down at her notes.

"Whatever it is, please just tell me," Harry said quietly, his eyes fixed on her downcast face.

"I was right," Blaise said, forcing the words between clenched teeth. "The Grail is the key and, as nearly as I can tell, it's the only way. There's nothing else I could find that the Dark Lord wouldn't be aware of already. This is our shot and – "

"We have to take it now," Ginny cut in, her voice rough. "Too many lives have already been – " Her voice broke. Draco wanted to reach out to her, as much to comfort himself as to comfort her, but he couldn't seem to lift his arm. His stomach was in knots. He had never, in the lifetime he had known Blaise, seen her so rattled by anything.

"We have to take it now," Blaise echoed Ginny. She cleared her throat and looked around at them all. Her eyes stopped on Harry.

"What do I have to do?"

Draco realized that Harry knew. He knew that he would bear the weight of Blaise's solution and it would be his sacrifice. He sat on the edge of his seat. His face was white, his scar and eyes blazing.

"Do we trust the elves?" Blaise asked suddenly. She motioned to the crowd of silent servants who stood motionless, watching the humans with their saucer eyes.

"Dobby says they can be trusted," Harry said dismissively.

"And Wickle and her friends know that Harry Potter will defeat the terrible lord of the darkness," one of the smaller elves said in her squeaky little voice. All the others nodded.

"Here it is, then." Blaise cleared her throat again, but kept her head up to meet their eyes. Like Harry, she was very pale. "Harry, do you trust me completely?"

Harry stared at her, clearly started. "With my life," he said quickly.

Blaise flinched. "Even if I tell you that you'll be giving yours up if you do this?"

Granger gasped, and reached out to grip Harry's arm. He caught her hand and squeezed, his eyes never leaving Blaise. "I'm willing."

"Then here it is."

She told them.

"No, Harry!" Weasley was on his feet. "Too much could go wrong. There has to be another way – "

"There isn't." Granger's eyes were brimming with tears. "Ron, I've been through every book in the library. Nothing comes close to this. The prophecy can only be fulfilled this way – otherwise, we destroy Voldemort's body and his spirit escapes. Five years, maybe ten, and he'll be back at it again. This is the only way to end it for good."

"I don't care! I won't let you, Harry," Weasley insisted, his voice rising. "Your life is worth more than this!"

"What about the lives of your family, Weasley?" Draco demanded. Didn't the prat realize this was hurting them all?

"Don't you start in my family, Malfoy!" Weasley snarled, rounding on Draco. "Just because _you're_ willing to let Harry die so you can go on living – "

"Ron, stop!" Harry grabbed his friend by the scruff of the neck and hauled him away from Draco. Just as well. Draco had been about to hit him. Spinning Weasley to face him, Harry gripped his shoulders. "He's right. Your whole family, except Ginny, is out there right now, fighting those Death Eaters. And if we don't end this _now_, our kids, if any of us are lucky enough to have them, will be out there fighting the same monster someday. Because he'll keep coming back unless we do this."

"Those Death Eaters who destroyed five safe houses yesterday," Ginny put in. "They'll bide their time until their master returns. We _can't let him_!"

"Those Death Eaters," Harry agreed, and though he looked shaken, he went on. "Draco's right, Ron. Your family needs this war over. Our classmates need the world set right again so they can have futures. If this plan goes right, everyone gets their lives back again - permanently. To me, that's worth – "

"_More than your life_?" Weasley yelled. "_Nothing_ is worth that, Harry! A kid shouldn't sacrifice his _life_! You've barely lived! You can't do it – you can't – you – " he was gasping for breath and suddenly, Draco saw the tears shining on his cheeks.

Harry saw them, too. In a swift gesture, he pulled his oldest friend into a hug. The only sound in the room was Weasley's heaving breath as he cried. Draco couldn't look away. He had always hated Weasley, maybe more than he'd ever hated Harry. Never, even when they had worked together on reinforcing Hogwarts' defenses, had he understood Weasley or tried to.

Unwillingly, he realized that he was seeing what Weasley and Potter were to each other. He saw the comradery. He understood, in a brief flash, how important their friendship was. It was a vital part of who they became as they grew up together. Without Harry, Draco saw, a part of Weasley was dead.

This sacrifice would be easier for Harry than for any of them.

Draco felt someone lean into him and instinctively opened his arms to Ginny. Silent tears streamed down both cheeks as she pushed her face into the crook of his neck and shook. Draco glanced at Harry and saw that he had opened one arm to Granger, whose tears were also flowing.

_Love_. Draco felt a burst of comprehension, the final piece of an fathomless puzzle falling into place. _This is love. This is what we have that the Dark Lord doesn't. And it's all we need_._ It's what Harry will need, in the end._

He jumped as something wet burned his cheek. He reached his free hand up and touched his face.

A single tear smudged under his finger.

He looked up slowly, and met Blaise's eyes. They were dry, but dark with pain that was deeper than tears. Her pain was that of someone who felt she had laid a death bed before the dearest person in her life. She carried immeasurable guilt.

In a way, Blaise's sacrifice was the greatest. She would suffer the consequences for the rest of her life.

Draco tore his eyes from his friend, unable to think of a way to help and knowing their probably wasn't one. He noticed that Weasley was quiet and Granger was also staring at Blaise from the crook of Harry's arms. Harry was watching Draco.

"You with me, Malfoy?" he asked, his voice challenging.

Draco swiped ineffectually at his traitorous eyes. "I'm with you. Git."

Granger actually laughed and Ginny looked up at him with a watery smile.

"That's my archnemesis." Harry actually winked at him. Draco saw that his eyes were dry. In fact, he looked as though a weight had been lifted from him. Well, he had probably been expecting this battle his entire life as a wizard. Now he knew how, where, when, and the cost of it all. Harry was a doer – now he had something to do.

"When do we go?" Granger asked. She straightened as Weasley lifted his head from Harry's shoulder and stepped back, wiping his face on his sleeve.

"Tomorrow," Blaise said softly. "We need to break into my parents' house, into my great-grandfather's library, and according to Snape and Dumbledore's information, there's a huge gathering tomorrow night to celebrate yesterday's slaughter."

"Perfect," Weasley said, his voice hoarse. "So we waltz in and – "

"Ron." Harry met his friend's eyes with a pleading look.

Weasley took a deep breath. With another flash of unwanted insight, Draco realized the level of courage Weasley needed to accept the pain he would suffer and accept the eventual loss of his closest friend. Not only to accept such a loss, but to help instigate it.

"What supplies do we need?" he said at last. "I can speak to Lupin – "

"For now, no one knows except Dumbledore and Professor Snape," Blaise cut in sharply. "We can't risk anyone fighting us on this. Lupin probably wouldn't, but we can't risk anything going wrong. Imagine if your parents somehow found out, Weasley. How could Ginny come if that happened? How could _Harry_?"

Weasley opened his mouth to argue, though about Lupin's trustworthiness or his sister's accompanying them on the trip, Draco didn't know. But neither point could be argued and Weasley wasn't known for being especially quick-witted. Instead of arguing, therefore, he bent his head for a moment, swallowed audibly, and looked up at Harry.

"I can get everything we need without Lupin and stash it near one of the tunnel exits in the dungeons," he said instead.

"Dobby can help," a little voice at Draco's elbow piped up, making Draco and Ginny jump.

"We don't need much – just a pack each of the supplies on this list," Blaise said, handing the paper to Weasley. Ginny's brother moved a little to the side of the group and bent down to confer with the house elf.

"Granger, I need all your Grail research," Blaise went on. Task designation seemed the next order of business now that arguing was done. Blaise hesitated a moment before adding, "And I could use your help. You probably know more about the Dark Lord than I do, and there's one part of the plan that you'll need to see to."

Granger looked thoroughly surprised, but a pink tinge appeared in her cheeks and she ducked her head to hide a pleased smile. "Anything you need," she said to the countertop.

"Gin, Draco," she said softly. "Harry detail."

"Hey!" Harry said indignantly. Draco sniggered, remembering his argument from their meeting four weeks before.

"You need to sleep and to have some fun before we get this shindig under way," Blaise said sharply. "There's nothing for you to do that isn't being done, and you'll only be in the way if you're allowed to skulk about."

She saw the hurt expression on Harry's face and sighed. "I'm trying to take care of you. Merlin knows we're all trying to. So let us fuss."

"Yes, _Mrs. Weasley_," he muttered, eliciting chuckles from Weasley and Ginny.

As the chuckles fell silent, a new silence settled on the group. Draco looked around at the others.

"This is it, lads and lassies," he said into the quiet. "Let's get to it."

**)BTG(**

Harry couldn't remember a twenty-four-hour period going faster. He was grateful for it; grateful, too, for the constant companionship of some or all of his friends. Ginny and Draco forced a mild sleep elixir on him straight away. Several hours later, he awoke in the Gryffindor common room to the smell of tea and toast and a staunch demand from Ron that he play chess. Blaise joined them just as Ron declared the usual, "Checkmate!" She kicked Ron out, telling him Dobby needed him in the entrance hall for supply collection. As soon as Ron was safely out of the common room, she curled herself up in the crook of Harry's arm, tucked her head under his chin, and kissed his neck.

Sometime later, Ginny and Draco appeared with dinner trays and the four of them had a cozy meal, enjoying the strange feeling of comradery that they shared for reasons locked away in the Department of Mysteries. They ate and told stories of their most embarrassing moments in school.

Just as they stood to take the trays away, Ron and Hermione came through the portrait hole and made straight for their favorite couch by the fire. Harry followed, and when he glanced back at Ginny and Draco, all he saw was the portrait hole swinging shut.

"That git really is a good friend to you, isn't he?" Ron said as Harry sat down beside him.

"He is." Harry smiled at his best friend. "Not such a git anymore."

"Don't worry," Ron said easily. "He'll always be a git to me, just in case you change your mind."

"Boys," Hermione said, moving to Harry's other side and rolling her eyes at Ron.

"What does that even mean?" Ron asked Harry. "She says 'boy,' and then hangs around us all the time."

"Dunno, mate." Harry grinned at Hermione. "I'm glad she hangs around, against her better judgment."

Hermione hugged his side and for once, Ron didn't say a word. He just slugged Harry in the shoulder and settled back.

"Nice not to have homework," was his next comment.

They must have dropped off, because Harry awoke to Ron's weight and snore on his right, and Hermione's head and drool on his left shoulder.

He smiled – not a single dream tonight – and went back to sleep.

He awoke to faint light through a window and the smells of a Hogwarts' breakfast. Ginny and Blaise knelt in front of him, giggling as they held bits of toast and sausage beneath his nose.

After breakfast, Draco appeared, clutching a broom. He raised his eyebrows and nodded to the pitch. Harry went for his Firebolt and silently followed his friend.

At noon, they met the Head Master in his office for lunch. Harry was amazed and pleased that Dumbledore didn't bring up their impending departure or anything relating to the war during the meal. Instead, he told them hilarious stories of his own days as a Hogwarts student, most of which involved him breaking every one of the caretaker's rule at least once. Harry could barely eat for laughing, which was just as well, given the approaching hour.

His last day at Hogwarts was the happiest of his life.

He was ready when evening fell. One by one, he and his friends collected in the dungeons. Each shouldered a pack of supplies. Each doubled checked their wrist holsters that held their wands. Each turned to face Harry expectantly when their last preparations had been completed.

He looked around, feeling prouder than he ever had in his life and ready to face his destiny.

"Let's go."

**)BTG(**

Ginny kept her eyes peeled as they crossed the grounds of the Zabini estate, searching for anything physical or magical that might block them, but they got in without setting off any alarms or booby-traps.

"Someone's taken them all down," Blaise said softly as they stole through a garden, using the massive hedge trimmings as cover in case they were being watched from the house. She paused behind a hedge cut in the shape of a dragon and motioned the others to duck down.

"That's encouraging," Ron muttered, pulling out his wand. He murmured a spell, cracking his wand across his head. The Disillusionment Charm drizzled over him and in a moment, he was the same color as the hedge dragon. Harry performed the same charm, and Ginny pulled out her own wand as Blaise cast the spell on herself.

Draco was the last to cast the charm on himself. He took point and the others fell in around him. Having known the Zabinis most of his life, he was very familiar with their home. Draco crept from the cover of the ornamental garden and ran to the servant's entrance set into the side of the Zabini mansion. A quick hex shattered the badly magicked deadbolt and they crept into the small living space set aside for maids, butlers, and house elves.

It was eerily quiet.

"Here we go," Draco muttered, wand held at the ready as he moved slowly into the room. Ginny heard Harry booby-trapping the door behind them to alert them if someone else came in.

The area, however, appeared to be deserted.

"Much too easy," Ginny mumbled to herself, keeping close to Draco as he began to climb the stairs to the main part of the house.

The ground floor proved equally empty and, by the time they reached it, it was shadowed by twilight.

"See you," Draco said as they split up.

Draco began the cautious trek to the study. Ron and Harry moved to the front door to rig it as a warning if someone came through, then climbed toward the second floor. Ginny headed for the library, following Blaise.

Not a sound except their shuffling feet could be heard. Ginny's stomach was in knots, but she knew the plan. She followed her friend to a set of double doors off the entrance hall into which they had emerged. She didn't look back, but she did keep her eyes open for signs of trouble. They reached the library doors without incident. She followed Blaise inside, leaving room behind her for a short instant, before pushing the door shut.

They made for the end of the library Blaise had told Ginny about back at Hogwarts. They began pulling books off the shelves, setting them on a table behind them. Ginny swallowed, trying not to make too much noise. They were looking for something, but only Blaise knew exactly what. If Ginny thought a book looked promising, she placed it beside Blaise. They couldn't afford to miss anything; they were lucky if they had ten minutes.

They had been at it for nine when the almost-invisible form of the Disillusioned Blaise went still over a book. Slowly, she closed her eyes, then opened them and nodded to Ginny. She had clearly found part or all of what she needed. Ginny felt a rush of relief – she had been pulling all the books whose titles had "Grail" or anything related and she was now into a section about Muggle massacres that she doubted had much to do with healing. Purity, maybe, but only the sort that meant genocide.

As she waited for the signal to leave, Ginny began stuffing the books back onto the shelves. This ought, if necessary, to cover their tracks a bit. She was just putting the last of the book, "The Grail! Fact or Fantasy of a Frazzled Mind," when a loud crash and shouting echoed through the entrance hall. She turned and dashed to the door of the library, Blaise right behind her. They each pressed an ear to the wood, listening. Sure enough, the sounds were coming from the direction of the study.

Draco had been found.

Seconds later, a voice rang through the hall. In fact, it seems to penetrate the walls, echoing through the library and, Ginny suspected, other parts of the house.

"Come, come, I'm disappointed," said the voice. Six years later, and Ginny still remembered, with perfect clarity, the aristocratic drawl of Tom Riddle. She felt Blaise grip her arm, but the rest of her seemed to have gone numb.

"You don't expect me to believe that young Master Malfoy is alone?" Lord Voldemort demanded. Ginny clenched her fists, thinking of Draco out there by himself.

She was brought sharply back by another bustle.

"I found these two upstairs in one of the bedrooms, my Master." The slippery voice of Peter Petegrew carried across the entrance hall. Ginny gritted her teeth. "Just as you suspected, sir, they spread out to search the house for something."

"Really?" Voldemort sounded positively delighted, but a moment later, his voice dropped dangerously. Ginny could still hear him clearly as he murmured, "Now why send Harry Potter as a decoy …? When Severus told us you would all be here tonight, he was sure Harry would be the reason. Why allow him to be caught so easily?"

"Gracious Lord, may I speak?"

Ginny recognized Lucius Malfoy's silky tone and her heart skipped a beat. Lucius must have got the go-ahead, because he said, "Where is that Mudblood you tow about with you, Potter?"

There was another scuffle and Harry's voice snapped, "Stop it, Ron, this isn't helping." The scuffling noise quieted and Harry said, "We'd never let Hermione come with us."

"She seems to be the brains behind everything you do, Potter," Lucius said. "Forgive me if I don't take your word for it."

"Stop your posturing, Lucius!" There was a flash of blue light and a yelp.

"A thousand apologies, my lord," came a whimper a moment later.

"Now, then, Harry," Voldemort went on.

"That's Mr. Potter to you," Harry said. Ginny couldn't help a shaky smile, and heard a sharp breath beside her as Blaise covered her mouth.

"Not for long, boy." Ginny's grin dropped off her face as a heavy weight settled in her chest. She knew the madness of Tom Riddle and knew that, in spite of his genius, he was extremely unstable. "Unless you tell your girlfriend to come out – now."

"My lord," Lucius spoke again. "Forgive me, but I suspect the Mudblood is not alone."

There was a pause, and Ginny found herself holding her breath.

"Go on, Lucius."

"My deepest thanks, my Lord." A pause, then, "Though Severus had no way of knowing how many Potter would bring with him tonight, reports from last summer tell us that the field unit Potter traveled with during that time also contained Arthur Weasley – the _blood traitor's_ – only daughter."

"Ah, yes. Ginny Weasley."

Ginny swallowed hard.

"And, forgive me, my Lord, for my speculation, but, in spite of our removing all of the wards, I doubt any of these children found their way onto Zabini grounds or into the mansion without help from someone who knew it very well," Lucius finished, his voice stronger. "The Zabini girl – the renegade. She was traveling in Potter's group last summer and Severus says they keep very close company at Hogwarts. Bellatrix also mentioned that Miss Zabini rescued Miss Weasley from her during a fight last summer."

"Libra, Octavio, can this be true?" Voldemort asked silkily, addressing (Ginny assumed) Blaise's parents.

"M-my Lord," came the trembling voice of a woman. "W-we have not spoken to our traitorous daughter in some time. She brings shame to our family – "

There was a flash of red and two shrieks as Voldemort roared, "_You_ bring it shame by not ending her life the moment she showed disloyalty to _me_!"

The red light faded and Ginny could hear their rasping breaths through the door.

"Now, then," Voldemort said calmly. "Lucius may be onto something, and since I doubt young Harry will be telling us where they are hiding, I will have to resort to drastic means." Ginny's heart raced.

"Miss Zabini, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley." His voice echoed as though he were in the room with them. "You will kindly step out. Now."

Blaise and Ginny stood frozen against the door.

"Ah. I see you are cautious," Voldemort continued, his voice lowering menacingly. "I expect that ending Harry's life right now, as I should have done years ago, will entice you to be quick."

"No!"

Blaise burst through the door. It swung open into the entrance hall, revealing the Dark Lord and ten Death Eaters. Draco stood before his father, who was pressing a wand into the side of his neck. Two people knelt on the floor, smoke rising from them. Ginny assumed they were Blaise's parents. Wormtail stood behind Harry, presumably holding a wand to his back. Ron was being held by two burly Death Eaters Ginny didn't recognize. Neither Draco, nor Harry or Ron, still has their Disillusionment Charm in place or, it appeared, their wands.

"So good of you to join us," Voldemort breathed, beckoning them into the room. "Where is the Mudblood?"

"She isn't here," Blaise snapped, her steady gaze trained on Voldemort. She didn't change color or even twitch.

"Of course not," Voldemort said dangerously. "Dolohov, relieve them of their wands. If she does not appear at once, Miss Zabini – "

"If you want to become immortal, back off and listen!" Blaise cut him off.

"Blaise, no!" Ginny breathed.

"Immortal, Miss Zabini?" Voldemort raised a hand, and the Death Eater advancing on Blaise stopped.

"Tales, my Lord!" cried Blaise's mother from the floor. She was struggling to push herself to her feet. "Silly children's stories. Family relics. You need not – "

A jet of green magic shot from Voldemort's wand and Mrs. Zabini dropped like a rock. Blaise didn't even look at her.

"If these _are_ tales, as your _late_ mother tells me, you'll be very sorry indeed, Miss Zabini," he resumed.

"Not tales," Blaise said firmly. Ginny saw that her knuckles were white as they clutched her Caduceus. "Why would we break into this house over children's tales? I've been researching this since I left Hogwarts. What I found is so powerful that even Grindelwald was interested."

Voldemort was rubbing his chin. "An outdated wizard."

"Not to be compared with yourself, of course." Blaise crossed her arms.

"Do not try my patience," Voldemort hissed, his eyes narrowing to red slits. He flicked his wand and a sound like a whip cracked through the room. Ginny saw Blaise flinch as her cheek split open and dribbled blood onto the floor at her feet. Harry, trembling, was now being forcibly restrained by Wormtail and another Death Eater.

"Don't try mine," Blaise returned with surprising coolness. "You need me and you need me alive. In order to get me, my friends go unharmed. You need me to give what I have to offer willingly or it won't work."

"I'm listening." Ginny was amazed that he didn't cut Blaise down where she stood.

"The Holy Grail," Blaise said quietly, "is a vessel filled with the blood of Jesus Christ, a man so powerful that his blood ran with liquid magic. When he died a martyr, his uncle collected his blood in a chalice, or so the story is told by Muggles." She swiped at the blood on her cheek. "The story is wrong. Jesus had a wife and through her, he bore children. Those children bore the same liquid magic in their veins – they are the vessels. Rare generations even have witches whose blood is so potent that, if willingly given, it will grant immortality."

"And you just happen to belong to one of those rare generations?" Voldemort said, his voice short of a sneer.

"I am the only female, full-blooded Zabini of this generation," Blaise assured him. "Therefore, I'm the only one with potent blood. Don't ask me to prove it – I can't. But I bare the Caduceus of the Chosen women, my eyes are purple like the Chosen women's. My brothers don't have eyes like mine," she assured him, gesturing carelessly at two of the hooded Death Eaters, one of whom was guarding Ginny. "Neither do either of my parents or my grandparents."

"Let us suppose, for the moment, I believe all this," Voldemort said. "I would be willing to accept immortality from a Zabini – you are Pureblooded and your contribution to my eternal life would go a long way toward restoring your family."

"Their restoration can come or go," Blaise said dismissively. "All I care about are my friends. My blood must be given willingly for the magic to be effective. The second I stop being willing, the magic turns to poison." Blaise waved her Caduceus toward the library, and the book she and Ginny had found flew into her outstretched hand. "Page 395 – go on, if you like. Says it all right there."

Voldemort gestured and Blaise's father stepped forward, taking the book without looking at his daughter and flipping to the page. He read it carefully.

"According to this record, she speaks the truth," he said grudgingly. "In order for the spell to work, she must be willing and conscious to oversee its transference. Otherwise, her blood poisons the drinker."

Ginny stared from Blaise to Mr. Zabini, crossing her fingers inside her long sleeve.

"Blaise, no! You can't give him this!" Harry shouted, throwing himself against his captors.

Blaise tossed him an apologetic look. "Sorry, Harry. I know this wasn't part of the plan." Then she looked Voldemort in the eye. "Do we have a deal?"

Voldemort watched her closely, then turned his eyes on Harry, who glared murderously back.

"Prepare to release the other hostages," he said coolly. "Take them to the main entrance and let them go at my command only." He paused, a twisted smile on his lips as he raised his wand. "All but Potter." He gave Blaise what Ginny supposed was a warning look. "I will not let Potter free."

"You get Harry on the condition that you agree to face him in combat, not just curse him the second you're immortal," Blaise insisted. "He deserves a chance. I hear the last time you fought him, he was still a kid. Give him a chance as a full wizard."

"Little difference it makes, but have it as you wish," Voldemort said dismissively. "Potter will die tonight by my hand, one way or another. Take the others to the entrance."

"Keep them where I can see them," Blaise ordered. "I don't trust any of you." A moment later, two whiplashes snapped at her face and two more gashes appeared beside the first. She gasped, but kept her head up as blood trickled down her cheeks.

"Have a care, Miss Zabini," Voldemort murmured. "They are my servants."

"And _those_ are your only bits of leverage," Blaise retorted, indicating her friends. Draco was straining against his captors' arms, and Ron looked ready to start himself.

"You're not fighting without us, Harry!" he called.

"Miss Zabini stipulated that you all were to be unharmed, Mr. Weasley," Voldemort said softly. "That means, no helping little Harry."

Ron snarled and started straining against his captors as well.

"Call them off, Zabini, or your blood or no, they will die here," Voldemort warned.

Blaise took a deep breath. Ginny could see her face draining of color.

"Enough, both of you," she said, her deep voice firm. "You take Ginny, and get out of here."

Draco and Ron both looked at Ginny, whose wand was being pulled from her hand by Dolohov. Draco stopped struggling, a pained expression on his face. Ron looked conflicted.

"Weasley, you'll do no one any good if you're dead," Draco snapped. "Stop it."

Ron relaxed a bit, though Ginny could tell that every muscle was tense.

"I see you have your mutts well trained," Voldemort said with a curled lip. "Crabbe, Zabini – prepare to release them on my command."

"Our wands – " Ron began.

"Will remain with us, thank you," Voldemort said thinly. Ron closed his mouth, white-lipped.

"Now, then, Miss Zabini," the Dark Lord resumed, returning his attention to her. "You will explain the entire procedure in detail."

"It's simple," Blaise told him, rolling up her sleeve. "You drink my blood directly from my veins. Enough blood and you become immortal."

"How much is enough?" he asked, watching her closely.

Blaise swallowed visibly. "I don't know." She paused. "The power of my blood won't fully coalesce until I'm forty." Ginny saw her jaw clench. Then she finished, "I expect you'll need most of it."

"No, Blaise, you can't!" Ginny cried.

"There must be another way – !" Harry began, even as Draco shouted, "He isn't worth that, Zabini!" And Ron chimed in, "You're not helping us if we have to carry you out, you know!"

"Shut up, all of you!" Blaise bellowed, and her voice seemed to fill the whole room. Ginny felt tears on her cheeks. "I've made my choice. Carry on without me – get out of here and get to a safe house."

They all knew that Voldemort had no intention of releasing them once he had Blaise's blood. They gritted their teeth.

"Very well," Voldemort said, stepping toward Blaise. He glared around at his Death Eaters. "Do not let anyone – _anyone_ – interfere."

"My lord," they all said with deep bows before turning their full attention on their charges, double-checking for hidden wands or weapons.

"Let us begin, Miss Zabini," Voldemort said, stepping in front of her.

Blaise slowly raised her Caduceus and put it to her wrist. With a muttered spell, she split it open. She held it up to the Dark Lord. "Drink now," she ordered.

Voldemort put his almost lipless mouth to her wrist and Ginny nearly retched as she saw his throat spasm with the first swallow.

This was it, she realized, and more tears flooded her eyes. Minutes passed. Voldemort drank greedily from Blaise's right wrist. Blaise was white, the dark circles under her eyes stark against her pallid face. Somehow she was still on her feet and suddenly, Ginny saw Blaise's left hand extend slowly to the side.

What happened next happened so fast that no one saw how it happened.

Wormtail and the other Death Eater guarding Harry pitched forward without a sound. Before anyone else could move, Harry leapt forward, dropping to his knees and pressing his mouth to Blaise's left wrist. A moment later, a voice shouted, "_Circumfero_!"

**)BTG(**

Harry heard the unmistakable sound of Hermione shouting, "_Circumfero_!" from under the invisibility cloak as his mouth closed on Blaise's wrist. Fighting every instinct he had that told him this was _wrong_, he swallowed a mouthful of Blaise's blood.

Suddenly, his veins were on fire. His blood seared as it coursed through him. He wanted to pull his mouth away, to scream with the agony of it, but he couldn't move. Something held him there.

And then the burn was gone, replaced by the feeling that his blood had turned to cement. It didn't seem to want to move and even as he took another involuntary swallow from Blaise's arm, he felt something alien slithering through him. Whatever it was, it was crawling all over his insides, trying to find a place to put itself –

And he was falling away from Blaise, clutching his head as that alien something raced toward it, passing his heart and scrabbling up his throat.

"Fight it, Harry!" a voice cried. He didn't know what to do – all he knew was that he loved that voice. He remembered it as one he had loved for a long time, one that made him think often of his mother. This voice cared for him; loved him, too.

"Come on, Potter, you have to fight it!" another voice joined in. "Lock it away. Use the power she gave you!"

Power? What power? He recognized this voice, too. This voice cared about him very much.

"Harry, mate, lock him away! Please," a third voice cut in. Harry thought he heard a choke in this voice. "Please, mate," it begged. Harry heard the love in it. "How are you supposed to be my best man if you're – if you can't – "

"Find the power she gave you, Harry," a fourth voice urged gently. "Blaise gave you the power. You have to use it!"

Harry suddenly remembered the agonizing fire, even as he felt the alien thing touch the edge of his mind. _No_! he thought. He had to rekindle the fire, but how? His blood felt so heavy now.

"Love, Harry!" the motherly voice from before cried. "Remember that we all love you!"

"We love, Harry!" said the other voices together. "We love you, we love you – !"

The fire suddenly blazed up, powering through his entire body. He didn't know how he pointed it toward the alien thing, but he did. It scrabbled at his throat, sank into his chest for a moment, before the fire overwhelmed it, wrapping around it. Harry felt a distant sort of ache, but he also felt the words of those people. They loved him.

Suddenly, he knew just what to do. He reached out to the alien thing and turned it until it faced his heart. Then he showed it. He showed it all of the people he loved and all of the people who loved him. It gave a wail and tried to move away, but Harry and his new fire blood held it fast. Then Harry moved it toward and into his heart. Here was a place where it couldn't do any more harm to anyone. It couldn't even begin to comprehend what lay here. It didn't want to. Here was a place it would never escape.

Harry pressed the thing into his heart. It moaned and stormed and raged, but Harry felt his heart swallow it, ingest it, forcing it to see all the love that Harry had, understood, and returned. These concepts were so far beyond its comprehension that it shrank in on itself and huddled there against the walls of its throbbing prison.

As though a gate closed, Harry felt his heart lock the alien thing in, even as he felt himself losing consciousness.

_It's okay_, the blood-fire seemed to say. _We'll take it from here_.

_Oh, good_, Harry thought, before everything went black.

**)BTG(**

Blaise's eyes opened slowly. Everything was blurry at first.

"Where – ?" she tried, before choking on the cotton that seemed to fill her throat. She coughed.

"Drink this," a voice said softly. A cup was pressed to her lips and she drank. She felt the liquid dissolve the cotton. It also seemed to clear her vision.

"Gave us a right scare, you did," Draco said. He was seated on the bed to her left.

"That you did," said another voice. Blaise opened her eyes as Mrs. Weasley bustled in. "How are you feeling, dear?"

"I – " Blaise blinked. She felt strangely heavy, as though she weighed about a stone. She didn't hurt exactly, but she was certainly spent.

"Madam Pomphrey had to force your body to produce a lot of new blood very quickly." Mrs. Weasley smoothed the hair of Ginny, who was sitting on the right side of Blaise's bed. "In addition to the help of the blood of a few other people."

Blaise looked at Ginny, who shrugged and held up an arm. The crook of her elbow held a thin cut.

"Madam P needed more than a restorative potion, you see," she said. "Draco and I both had plenty to spare, and we were there anyway, so …"

"Th-thank you," Blaise said, blinking around at her friends. Draco shrugged, giving her hand a squeeze. Blaise noticed the thin cut on the inside of his arm and then noticed the bandages that bound both her own wrists.

"Those scars should heal in time," Mrs. Weasley said, reaching passed Ginny to lift one of Blaise's bound wrists. She unwrapped the bandage to show Blaise. The skin of her wrist was almost smooth, except a faint red line that squiggled around her largest veins. Mrs. Weasley tapped the wrist with her wand before rewrapping Blaise's wrist. "The ones on your face are totally gone. Healed within the first week."

"Where are we?" Blaise asked, feeling her face and remembering how the cuts had got there. She suddenly felt rather lost.

"You're in the Burrow," Mrs. Weasley said kindly. "You were in the hospital wing at Hogwarts for a week and a half. When Poppy said she expected you to wake up within a few days, I suggested we move you here. It's more homey."

"Thank you," was all Blaise could manage. A week and a half?

"You must be tired, dear." Mrs. Weasley hesitated, then reached out to stroked Blaise's tangled hair. Her eyes were suddenly full of tears. "We'll talk more later. So many people want to see you – you saved us all." She leaned down and kissed Blaise's forehead. Blaise closed her eyes, imagining for a moment that the woman really was her mum. Then the warmth was gone and Mrs. Weasley bustled out, saying, "You two are not to bother her. Let her go back to sleep."

"Yes, Mum," said two sulky voices, and Blaise opened her eyes to see Ginny and Draco looking affronted. She felt her lips crack a bit as she smiled.

"Just because we haven't left your side since they brought you back to Hogwarts – "

" – taking our meals in the hospital wing and everything – "

" – had to, didn't we? We were recovering, too."

They both grinned at Blaise. She stared at them, her mouth flopping about at loose ends.

"What? Blaise Zabini without a word to say for herself?" Draco covered his mouth in mock-horror.

"Oh, stop." Ginny gripped Blaise's right hand. Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed Blaise's cheek. "We'll let you sleep. When you're more yourself, we'll talk."

She climbed off the bed and motioned to Draco. "Come on, Mal-ferret. Let's go bother other invalids."

"Hey! What did you call me, _Weasel_?" Draco kissed Blaise's left hand before following Ginny to the door. "Fine, we can go bother other people, but only if I can taunt your brother mercilessly."

"We'll see." Ginny turned back to Blaise. "Sleep tight, okay? We won't be gone long."

Blaise already felt her exhausted mind sinking under the pressure of so much change. Then something slid into her conscious and she tried to sit up. "Where's Harry? Is he – "

Ginny smiled slightly, but the expression was strained. "He's in the next room. Go to sleep, Blaise. You'll see him soon."

Blaise was going to demand that she see him _now_, but her eyelids drooped and suddenly, she was asleep.

When she awoke again, Madam Pomphrey was at her bedside.

"What're you doing here?" Blaise demanded thickly, trying to clear her fuzzy mind. "Aren't we at the Burrow?"

"I'm one of the Order's most trusted healers and one of the only ones who makes house calls," Madam Pomphrey said briskly. She waved her wand and a series of unintelligible numbers and symbols appeared above Blaise's bed. She glanced down at Blaise. "And I'm honored to do so for its heroes."

"Hero?" Blaise repeated woodenly. "Me?"

"I'm sure you'll hear all about it from your friends when you're feeling a bit better," Madam Pomphrey said, clearing the numbers and checking Blaise's wrists. "You won't need these bandages anymore."

Blaise looked down at her wrists. There wasn't a mark on either of them.

"Had you had more of your own blood in you, I've no doubt you would have healed those cuts within hours," Madam Pomphrey said. "But since you had to make do with Miss Weasley and Mr. Malfoy's blood while your body regenerated its own supply, healing took longer."

That made sense. Blaise hadn't ever taken this long to heal, but if she had lost most of her magical blood, the process would have taken much longer.

"Are Ginny and Draco around?" Blaise asked, accepting a goblet of potion from the healer.

"Next door, with Mr. Potter." Madam Pomphrey picked up a small bag from a chair beside Blaise's bed. "I'm going to let Molly oversee the rest of your healing, Miss Zabini. She's an excellent nurse and you're well on your way to perfect health."

"What about Harry?" Blaise demanded.

Unlike Ginny, Madam Pomphrey didn't force a smile. She looked Blaise very seriously in the eye and said, "As well as can be expected."

"Knock knock?"

Blaise glanced up as Ginny poked her head around the door. Her friend smiled and was followed into the room by Draco.

"You're well cared-for here, Miss Zabini," the Madam Pomphrey said with a smile, gathering up her things and leaving before Blaise could thank her.

Draco leaned against the nearest bedpost and smiling his crooked smile. "Lookin' good, Zabini," he said.

"Course she does," Ginny said, climbing over the baseboard and seating herself at the end of the bed. "All right, Blaise?"

"Better," she said carefully. "Someone mind telling me about Harry? Or about what happened? Or about why Madam P. was prattling on about heroes and rubbish?"

Ginny and Draco looked at each other.

"Everything?" Ginny asked, turning back to Blaise.

"Everything. With knobs," she ordered.

"Okay, but Harry should be here, too."

"What, is he well enough?" she said in surprise.

"Oh, sure." Draco didn't look at her. "I'll go fetch him. Lazy arse's been in bed all week."

Draco left and Blaise raised her eyebrows at Ginny.

"I'll make this quick," the redhead said. "The spell worked, Harry is dying."

Blaise felt numb. "How long does he have?"

"Since there's no known record of anything like this actually working, we don't know. Madam Pomphrey's done her best, with potions and so on. Dumbledore doesn't think word should get round about – about what Harry's done or about what you are – so she's the only healer who's been allowed to treat you or Harry." Ginny twisted a lock of hair around her find, her face pinched. "A week. Ten years. Fifty. Who knows? We were hoping that, given your connection to him now, you could tell us."

Footsteps could be heard outside and a moment later, Draco entered with Harry leaning on his shoulder. Blaise couldn't move. She just stared.

He looked as though nothing at all had happened to him. He looked – fine.

Suddenly, he was moving. He pushed passed Ginny and Draco, collapsing onto the bed beside Blaise. He took her face in shaking hands and kissed her. Blaise felt her arms go around him and the numbness left her in a burst of tears. She pulled him against her and held on tight.

"Oy, get a room." Draco's grouchy voice penetrated the foggy place in Blaise's scull where her brain had once been.

Ginny's giggle followed. "They've got a room. Git."

Harry pulled back from Blaise, grinning shakily. He caught one of her tears on his thumb, brushing it away. "Hey."

"Hey." She grinned back, wiping carelessly at the rest of them.

"Potter, let the woman breathe while we tell you ungrateful gits about how we saved your lives," Draco said impatiently.

"Jealous much, Malfoy?" But Harry crawled carefully over Blaise and settled himself beside her. She leaned into him and he put his arm around her.

"Don't flatter yourself." Draco made himself comfortable beside Ginny at the end of the bed. For a long moment, they all sat quietly, watching each other.

"Well?" Blaise said at last. "Sometime before I'm ninety."

"Where to start …" Ginny tapped her chin. "What do you remember?"

"Just Harry getting to me and then I blacked out," Blaise said.

"I'm sorry, but I'm still not sure I entirely understand what happened," Ginny said, pulling her knees to her chest.

"I don't, either, I just kind of made it up as I went," Blaise mumbled. Harry's arm tightened around her shoulders.

"Stop," he ordered. "Blaming yourself is stupid. You did what you had to and so did I."

"So what _did_ you both do?" Ginny asked.

"Basically, it was a theory I'd had," Blaise said. "It was a long shot. We all knew Voldemort would be drawn to the idea of immortality, just as Grindelwald had been." Blaise shook her head. "That didn't seem right to me. So during my research, both Granger and I looked through Muggle texts, trying to figure out why a man like Jesus, who was secure in his own mortality, would want to grant eternal life – in a literal, earth-bound sense, anyway."

"So when we broke into your parents' place, one of the things you were trying to figure out was if the Grail did grant immortality?" Harry said.

"By the time I finished my research at Hogwarts, I was sure it didn't, actually," Blaise said quietly. "One of the things I did look for in my great-grandfather's library was that page I showed Voldemort. It confirmed that the Grail had to be willing in order to transfer magic. I _was_ willing and if Harry hadn't got to me while I was still even a little conscious, the transfer wouldn't have worked and Voldemort would have been poisoned."

"And then he'd have died, thus releasing his soul _again_," Draco finished. "And once again, he could find a host body, etc., etc."

"Yup." Blaise shrugged. "Killing him wasn't the solution, so we used careful timing. It was all we had, and it worked."

"Okay I get that. So how did the whole soul transfer work?" Ginny asked, leaning forward. Blaise noticed with a small smile that she was gripping Draco's arm.

"Contest of wills, really," Blaise said. "Like I said, we needed an alternative to death. The idea was to trap the Dark Lord's soul within Harry's. A soul as broken as the Dark Lord's could never escape one as pure as Harry's. But we needed a way to drawl the Dark Lord's soul out of him and into Harry. Granger's spell, _Circumfero_was a purification spell listed in one of the books in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. It was said to enhance the affects of powerful magical substances. We both figured it would help me – the Grail, if you will – by basically enhancing my ability to control the natural affects of my blood. Once I fell unconscious, stopped being willing, there needed to be something there continuing to affect the transfer."

"So when Harry started to drink – " Ginny began. Blaise felt Harry stiffen beside her.

"The Grail – _I_, or rather, my unconscious Grail self – could keep on giving non-poisonous. I could also find a solution to the impurity of the Dark Lord's soul. In other words, the magic in my blood was looking for a way to heal his disgusting monster of a soul. With the help of Granger's well-timed charm, my blood was about five times as potent and wasn't limited by my consent. I went unconscious; the transfer continued."

"And when I die, I'll take him with me." He glanced sideways at Blaise. "Right?"

Blaise swallowed hard, but nodded. "Right. Your soul is holding his captive. I think it's like a captain going down with his ship. When – when you die, so does your soul. So _your_ soul won't let his escape when you die or possess you while you live. It will take his with you and control it until that time. Thus, we find a way around the Dark Lord's soul making a run for it when the body it's in dies."

"So ends Tom Riddle," Harry murmured, with an almost savage look of pleasure in his eye.

"The catch?" Ginny asked tremulously.

Harry sighed, but didn't look upset or even sad to Blaise. "Blaise's magical blood will continue to circulate through my bloodstream for the rest of my life, but because it doesn't belong in my body, it will eventually get older, staler. As it does, it will begin to affect my body in its other capacity: as a poison. As its magical qualities degenerate, it will slowly kill me."

"We'll be working on contingencies to slow the effects, though," Blaise said quickly. "Madam Pomphrey and I are going to try combining my blood with Restorative Potions and the like. We're sure to find something to slow the effects."

"The important thing," Harry cut in, "is that no matter how weak my body is, my soul will always be stronger and more whole than Voldemort's. His soul is bound to mine. When my soul dies, so does his."

They all lay in silence.

"I know this probably sounds stupid," Harry said after a while. "But – I'm just so glad to be alive right now. And I really do feel fine. Please don't feel badly, you lot. I've got time and for the first time in my life, I'm really free!""

They all looked at him. Blaise, closest to him, realized how healthy he looked. Whatever it would eventually do to him, the huge amount of magical blood Blaise had passed him had given Harry an incredible, if temporary, strength.

"I'm sort of amazed the rest of the plan worked," Ginny said. Blaise suspected her friend was trying to change the subject and she was deeply grateful. "I really thought Voldemort would figure out that Hermione was there."

"He knew she was there," Harry reminded her. "He just didn't see her as a threat. His loss."

Blaise chuckled, the knot of tension in her chest relaxing a bit. "I'll never underestimate Granger again, that's for sure."

"I'm just amazed we had enough time to get in and find what we needed," Ginny said. "I mean, they were expecting us, especially since we had Snape plant those hints that Harry Potter would be at the Zabini estate the night of the Death Eater celebration."

"I know." Draco rubbed his chin. "I wonder why they weren't waiting for us."

"Probably wanted to see what we were after," Blaise said. "As far as the Dark Lord knew, there was nothing special there. So why would Harry Potter want to go there? What was he after?"

"That makes sense," Ginny said. "He wanted us to lead him to whatever we were looking for, so he'd know if we knew something he didn't."

"He sort of called us out early," Draco said. "I guess maybe when they caught me they wanted to see where the rest of you would come from. I mean, he probably knew something was up when Blaise came out of the library. That would be the place to hunt for important information. Or the study." He paused, glancing at Harry. "What the devil were you and Weasley doing in a bedroom?"

"Well, there's not a lot upstairs, is there?" Harry defended. "We'd gone through all the other rooms and the loos and the closets."

"Tell me something: how did we get away from all those Death Eaters?" Blaise wanted to know.

"Well, right as you went unconscious, about twenty members of the Order of the Phoenix came bursting through the front door," Ginny said. "When I spoke to Dumbledore a final time before we left Hogwarts, I asked him to get as many members as he could to the Zabini mansion an hour after we left. I'm glad I guessed we'd need so much time. We couldn't have them bursting in before the transference began."

"Lucky guess, indeed," Harry murmured.

"They cleaned everything up so we could help you sort out the Dark Lord," Draco explained. "That was us around you, talking rubbish about love and so on."

"That wasn't rubbish, and I have another question," Ginny cut in. "What about Harry and Ron's booby traps on the two entrances? I didn't hear either of them go off."

"Either Voldemort found another entrance or disarmed the charms," Harry said with a shrug. "I didn't really expect him to fall for them. They was for show, anyway – so he'd _think_ we were trying not to be found."

"Along with the Disillusionment Charms."

"Right." Blaise grinned. "I have to say, by the way, all your yelling about how I 'shouldn't do this' was really inspired."

"I was scared out of my mind," Ginny confessed. "It really helped to yell a bit."

"I was worried Weasley was going to blow it all, with his worry over Harry having to duel the Dark Lord," Blaise said.

"That's why I was making a show of calming us both down," Draco snorted.

"Go on; Ron wouldn't have mucked it up," Harry insisted. "I've been through this sort of thing with him loads of times. I always want him at my back."

"Thanks, mate." They all looked round to see Weasley and Granger in the doorway.

"I know you're all discussing important stuff right now," Granger said delicately.

"But knock it off, it's dinner," Weasley said. "Mum wants everyone to eat in the dining room tonight."

"If you're up for it, Zabini," Granger said, with an impressively mischievous smile.

"Don't try to bait me, Granger," Blaise advised. "But, yeah, I think I'm up for it."

Blaise pushed the covers off, realizing too late that she was dressed in pinstriped cuddly pajamas.

Draco smirked. "Cute, Blaise."

"I think so." Harry pulled her to her feet, before tucking his arm around her to support her weak legs.

Blaise felt her ears go red and glared at Draco, who was poorly covering a bark of laughter with a hand. She felt a flash of something – memory, maybe?

_The only man who can make me blush_, she thought, shaking her head. "Come on," she ordered. "I haven't eaten in two weeks – I'm hungry!"

**)BTG(**

Ginny sat on the porch steps, gazing out at the last blazing lights of the sun. It was strange to look at the vivid colors that covered the woods and grassy hills around the Burrow, and not wonder if it was all about to end.

_He's gone_, she thought vaguely, trying to remember a time when You-Know-Who – He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Tom Ridde, Lord Voldemort – hadn't been in her life. Her earliest memories were connected with him. She had once been possessed by him, or a piece of him. For one, horrific year, he had been her entire world.

And now he was no more.

"Come here often?"

Ginny smiled, turning to look back at the house. Draco Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"Now and then." Ginny patted the step beside her.

"Do you often spend your time staring dreamily into the sunset?" Draco took a seat beside her, staring at the cascade of luminous color. His nose wrinkled. "Y'know, I just don't see what all the fuss is about."

Ginny giggled, looking sideways at him. "_You_ wouldn't. Prat."

"I have quite an artistic eye, you know," he countered.

"Do you?" Ginny grinned.

"Too right. For instance, now my father's been locked up in Azkaban with all his Death Eater friends, I'm tearing his ugly-as-arse mansion down."

"Where will you live?" Ginny bit her lip.

"Build my own place, obviously," he said. "Something ridiculously chic and elegant. Society will swarm around me. I'm a hero, you know."

"Yes, I read about it," Ginny returned, rolling her eyes. "Bloody _Prophet_. Always playing up the drama. They don't even know what happened."

"Who cares what they know?" Draco said sharply. "_We_ know and devil take everyone else."

Ginny shook her head, eyes returning to the sunset. "I can't believe it's over." She looked back at him and felt her breath catch. His profile was outlined in the setting sun, almost gone behind the distant hills. He had never looked so beautiful.

She cleared her throat. "What do we do now?"

Draco turned, pinning her with his eyes. "This."

He wrapped his long, cool fingers around the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his. She smiled – she knew this feeling, and it was good. Warm and soft and, contrary to Draco himself, totally submissive. She could do whatever she wanted with this kiss – they had all the time in the world.

After a while, Ginny pulled back, licking her lips. "That's good," was all she could say. She looked up into his eyes. "What do we do with that?"

Draco bit his lip, looked down, took her hand. "That ridiculously chic and elegant something I'm going to build – let me build it for you. Then come and live in it and make it beautiful."

Ginny's throat caught. Her eyes filled. "You mean it?"

"Well, I don't mean, like, tomorrow," Draco muttered, his cheeks pink. "But – well, you once said you wanted to be a healer. And Harry's going to need you to do that – he needs someone he trusts who knows what's really wrong with him." Draco cleared his own throat and went on briskly, "I don't reckon Blaise wants to do it – she's got natural gifts, but doesn't take to it like you do – but she'd do it if you don't. Now the war's over, you have the time. I have a lot to do getting my parents' estate sorted – lot of dark magic in there to deal with. Things to auction. I mean, that'll take time. I don't know when it'll be done – "

"I'll help you," Ginny said softly, running a hand over his cheek.

"That's good," Draco murmured, kissing her fingers as they passed his lips. "Because it's going to be your estate, too."

Tears spilled from Ginny's eyes. "I know." She rested her forehead against his.

**)BTG(**

Harry grinned through the window at his friends. A pair of arms slid around his waist.

"Bout time."

"For a lot of things," Blaise agreed. Mischievously, she leaned around Harry and tapped the glass. The blonde and redhead broke apart, saw Blaise and Harry pointing and laughing, and both went very red. Draco offered them a rude gesture.

Blaise pulled the door opened. "You big baby," she said to Draco, pulling Harry along behind her.

Harry laughed – he couldn't remember ever feeling this good.

"Well?" he said to Ginny, easing himself down beside her.

"Well, what?" Ginny said, grinning a face-splitting grin at him and not bothering to wipe the tears off her rosy cheeks.

"Got the future all sorted, have you?" Blaise asked, seating herself on Draco's other side.

"A bit," Draco said. "Ginny's got to go to uni, you know." He glanced at Harry. "Going to become a healer, she is."

Harry smiled at her. "That's fantastic!" he said, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on wizards who know how to avoid normal healers," Ginny said quietly, and Harry saw the pain well-hidden behind her eyes. "You can't avoid me, can you?"

Harry gave her a proper hug. "I wouldn't dare."

"What about you, Blaise?" Draco asked pointedly, clearly trying to change the subject. Harry didn't mind – he didn't like his friends being unhappy on his account.

"Are you kidding?" Blaise said. Harry saw her shoulders relax. "I'm a bloody war hero! I can do whatever I want. I'm going to play professional Quidditch."

Everyone stared at her. "You are?" Harry said in amazement.

"I was being scouted by the Holyhead Harpies before we left Hogwarts," she retorted. "Anyway, they're bound to take me, even if I turn out to be rubbish. I'm great publicity for the team. Hero, you know. I may have mentioned it before."

"You're not rubbish!" Ginny exclaimed. "I've seen you fly – you'll be great! I bet Puddlemere would have a look at you, too."

"What about _you_, Draco?" Blaise said, ducking her head with a smile at the compliment.

"Well, _someone_ has to be a rich, stay-at-home kind of bloke who does charitable things and has massive family gatherings," he pointed out. "Don't you think I'd be a fantastic wealthy heir?"

"Stellar." Blaise rolled her eyes at Ginny, who giggled. "You'll make a great stay-at-home dad, too."

Ginny and Draco both sputtered.

"Doesn't anyone want to know what _I_ want to do?" Harry couldn't help asking. He hated to bring up a painful subject, but since they were planning their futures …

Blaise was the first to look him in the eye. "What _do_ you want to do?" she asked.

The other two turned to look at him as well. Harry admired them all – this was an act of bravery and none of them had backed down. He heard a cough from the doorway and saw Ron and Hermione standing there, watching him as well. They both looked a bit guilty for eavesdropping, but both met his eyes evenly.

"I have no idea," he told them all, with a grin that he was glad to see was infectious. "But whatever it is, I can't wait."

**)BTG(**

_Fin_


	21. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good – er, I mean, we own nothing. Yeah . . .

**P)vs(M**

**Fifteen years later – 20 June 2013**

Blaise leaned back, stretching her arms over her head and watching chaos spread out in front of her. The noise would have been enough to wake the neighbors for miles around, have there _been_ any neighbors for miles around. There weren't, however, and thus the vast expanse of family felt at liberty to shriek, laugh, and holler to their hearts' content. She preferred to just sit and watch everyone else look completely foolish.

"Ever the dignified Slytherin, aren't we?" The cool voice was both amused and condescending.

"No, just you," she returned, without looking away from the madness that was the front lawn.

"Enough to wake the neighbors."

"Red's Park doesn't _have_ any, Draco."

"Oh, aren't we all particular this evening?" he groused.

"No, just you."

"Knock it off, Blaise."

"_You_ started it."

"Arguably the most mature conversation I've had all day," he muttered, stalking away.

Blaise smiled to herself as she watched his retreat, vaguely smug at the idea of being able to out-Draco Draco even after all these years.

"And what are you smiling about?" a new voice demanded from just behind her.

"Men," Blaise said with a smile, leaning back in her chair.

Her companion followed her gaze. "You can't be smiling about _Draco_. _I_ rarely smile about Draco!"

"Well, you _do_ have to live with him," Blaise pointed out.

"That's true," her friend said thoughtfully. "You'd think I'd have learnt to cope by now."

Blaise sniggered loudly enough to be heard by the man in question, who took one look at his wife and Blaise, and fled across the lawn to complain to one of his brothers-in-law (Bill, probably, as they got on frighteningly well).

"What's he moping about for?" Blaise wanted to know.

"He hates family gatherings," the redhead said knowingly.

Blaise opened her mouth in surprise.

"Oh, he loves the kids," Ginny assured her. "They're the only reason he still hosts these reunions with such little fuss. But, you know, he's used to fancy dress affairs and," she smiled, "well, Weasleys just don't hold with that sort of rubbish."

"He didn't like fancy dress affairs when we were kids," Blaise said, shaking her head after him. "Why would he want them now?"

Ginny shrugged.

"At least my brothers seem to be enjoying themselves," she pointed out.

Blaise followed her gaze and watched as Charlie and Fred went galloping by with small nieces perched on their backs who were yelling, "Go, griffy, _go_!"

"Hippogriffs have become an extension of this family," Blaise murmured, with a faint smile. Only _this_ family . . .

"Well, Sirius kind of brought one into the fold, didn't he?" Ginny returned, nodding toward an oak where Buckbeak, Sirius' only life-long companion, was burrowing for Merlin knew what in the lawn.

"Draco will have a fit if he sees the hole that creature is digging," Ginny muttered. "I've told Sirius to give him something to chew on, but Sirius said that he was forbidden_ by Draco_ to bring ferrets, which are what Buckbeat normally eats, so what could he be expected to do?"

"Sirius and Draco aren't fond of each other," Blaise pointed out. "I imagine they're both being difficult."

"Still, I think I'll go move Buckbeak before he destroys half the lawn or eats one of the children," Ginny said, getting to her feet with a sigh and hurrying away. Blaise watched her go, chuckling when Ginny passed her husband, who was attempting to convince one of his older nephews not to have any more punch, "because then Uncle Draco will be blamed for making you sick, and then Uncle Draco will be murdered by your mummy, and you don't want Uncle Draco to die, do you?"

Blaise's eyes moved on, taking in the scene. Though the family gathering was an annual affair, it felt special and different every time it occurred. Everyone was a year older, or in the case of the babies, hadn't been there the year before. Blaise was always relieved that their numbers increased, rather than decreased. The war had ended years ago, but for those who had fought in it, each new year of peace was fresh source of wonder and delight.

Blaise Zabini, _delighted_. It was a pathetic example of what happened when one went wretchedly soft.

"Blaise Zabini – _smiling_?" a quiet, saucy voice said from behind her. "And what has Blaise Zabini got to be smiling about?"

"I wasn't smiling," Blaise countered, straightening her face and turning. "How are you feeling, you smarmy git?"

"Well enough. Bit tired."

"Have a seat." She vacated her chair.

"I'm fine, Blaise."

"Sit, Potter."

He sat, looking grouchy.

"None of that," Blaise said sharply. "I'm looking after you, since you don't seem capable of doing it yourself."

"Pushy."

"Grouchy."

"Beautiful."

"Shut up." Blaise took her drink off the side table next to the chair and handed it to him. "Drink. You've had too much sun."

He obeyed and she took a seat at his feet, leaning back against the chair and resting her head on his knee. He reached out long fingers to stroke her close-cropped, dark hair. They sat in companionable silence for a bit, until Harry's hand stilled, and his soft breath suggested that he was dozing. She turned her head to kiss the thin hand that now rested on his leg, then turned to give him the thorough once-over he would never have allowed in wakefulness. His head was tipped back against the chair, his lips slightly parted. She could barely hear his breathing, though his chest rose and fell, and she compulsively leaned close to listen for the familiar sound.

"Blaise, stop it," he ordered softly, his eyes still closed.

She didn't jump. Instead, she leaned in and rested her cheek against his chest. "Stop what?"

He didn't respond, but he groped for one of her hands, twining their fingers. He slid his other arm around her, and held her against him as he drifted back to sleep. Blaise clung to him tenaciously.

"Mummy?"

She blinked, swallowed hard, and pulled away. Turning round, she forced a smile. "Yes, love?"

Large, green eyes blinked owlishly from behind wire-rim spectacles.

"Is Daddy okay?"

"Yes, love, he's fine," she responded immediately, getting to her feet. "He's just tired. Come with me and we can play in the swing."

"I _would_, but _Hayden_ won't let me!" The little girl looked up Blaise with such an indignant expression that Blaise felt a genuine smile at her lips and the tension within her eased a bit.

"Perhaps we can negotiate with him," she suggested.

"Nego – nesoshigate – what's that?"

"That means try to agree that if we give him ten more minutes then he lets us play," Blaise told her.

"Oh." A pause and a thoughtful frown. "Do you think it'll work?"

"He's _your_ cousin," she responded. "What do _you_ think?"

"I think he's a prat."

"Tristan Potter!"

"Well, he is!"

"Where did you learn that word, young lady?" Blaise demanded, planting her hands on her hips.

"Uncle Draco," the little girl said frankly.

_Oh, dear_, Blaise thought darkly, glaring at the blonde across the lawn._ Uncle Draco's in for a bit of a duffing up this evening._

Harry cracked an eye open to watch Blaise and Tristan drift away across the crowded lawn toward everyone's favorite rope swing, which Ron had built for little Hayden's fifth birthday earlier that year. Ginny had ranted and raved about how dangerous it was, but Draco had been utterly delighted with it and often took his son up, as it was big enough for three adults to fit comfortably across the seat. In order to get a really good swing, one was required to climb up a set of steps that had been built around a particularly wide maple. The stairs spiraled once around the tree, ending in a platform that was perhaps twenty feet off the ground. Ron had had the presence of mind to put a guardrail around the edge, leaving a small opening front just wide enough to fit the wide bench of the swing.

Harry smiled as Blaise and Tristan arrived in the clearing at the edge of the vast woodland, through which the swing moved back and forth, and Blaise called up to Hayden. Harry's blonde nephew immediately jumped off the swing (a feat of acrobatics that caught his mother's attention in an instant), and Blaise and Tristan disappeared around the tree.

Harry closed his eyes, still smiling with sheer contentment and allowing himself to relax into a desperately needed doze. He let the chaotic noise around him lull him into a sense of safety that still felt wholly new and wonderful to him. Again, he reflected that for the first time in his life, he felt secure and totally at ease. No aunts or uncles or burly cousins to dodge, no dark lords to fight, no smarmy professors skulking around. Just family and friends.

"Potter! Oy, Potter, you lazy object!"

"Draco, stop that, he's sleeping," Ginny's voice snapped from somewhere across the lawn.

"In the middle of the afternoon! It's pathetic," Draco said, his voice coming nearer to Harry's chair. "Potter, I know you're not really asleep!"

Harry kept his eyes tightly closed, trying not to smile at the blonde's annoyed tone.

"Well, if he wasn't asleep before . . ." came Ron's voice, sarcastically. Harry _did _smile at the protective tone in his best friend's voice.

"'S all right, Ron," he mumbled, cracking an eye. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Oh, nothing," Draco said, swaggering to a halt before him. "I just think it's right unfair that you get to lie around all day, whilst I am beaten about the head for so much as taking a chair for thirty seconds."

"I'd gladly trade you places, any day, and you know it," Harry said lightly, rolling his tense shoulders.

"Yes, well . . ." Draco took a seat on the step below him. "Don't suppose," he ventured, after a few moment's silence, "you'd be up for a couple of rounds after supper tonight."

Harry grunted impatiently. "Sure. Just get Blaise off my back for two seconds and I'm there."

"Don't you start in on Blaise because she cares about you!" a new voice said severely from behind Harry's chair.

"Buuusted," Draco drawled in murmur.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled contritely.

"Too right you are," Hermione said, striding briskly onto the porch and handing him a glass of water that was rather green. "Ginny says to drink this – it's got your Restorative Potion in – and then you'll be all right to do a couple of laps with Draco tonight."

Harry bit his lip, trying not to feel the harsh, bitter tug of resentment in his stomach. There had been a time when he was the best Quidditch player at Hogwarts, a time when he might have been able to play professional Quidditch, like Blaise had. And now . . .

"Couple of laps, indeed," Draco snorted, watching Hermione as she went to join Ginny and Mr. Weasley in conversation under the tree that Buckbeat had, until recently, been uprooting. "Reckon we could do one on one, Potter – Snitch only."

Harry tried to smile. It felt more like a grimace.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, that sounds all right."

"Good," Draco said briskly. "Now drink that potion and then come have something good."

"Good, like hundred-year-old good?" Harry asked, hopefully.

"Good, like there are few people in the world who've ever had _this_ kind of good," Draco said imperiously, critically examining a fingernail with an expression probably calculated to make Harry laugh.

He smiled, and downed the diluted potion in several gulps.

"Dad, Dad!"

His smile widened around a grimace at the bitterness of the concoction he had just swallowed. _Dad_. It was a good word, he thought, as a little boy came skidding to a halt beside him.

"Ced," he said, ruffling his dark hair. "Where're your sister and your mum?"

"They're still swinging," Cedric said indifferently. He stood there, hesitantly bouncing from foot to foot. Finally, he burst out, "Will you go riding with me and Den?"

"Now?" Harry asked in surprise.

"No, after dinner with everyone," Cedric said, bouncing with anticipation on the balls of his feet. He paused, watching Harry uncertainly. "Only you were resting and Mum said not to bother you about it . . ."

"Of course I will," Harry said firmly, feeling both frustrated and helpless. Even with the restorative draft, he wasn't feeling very strong.

"He just needs a good, stiff drink, is all," Draco said, offering Harry a hand up. "Come on, Potter, to the cellar we go."

"Why do you call him 'Potter?'" Cedric wanted to know, trotting along beside his tall uncle as they entered the house.

"It's tradition, Ced," Draco told him. He planted his hand on his nephew's shoulder and said in a ridiculously grandiose tone, "Your father and I carry on a long tradition of rivalry, my dear Cedric. Rivalry that transcends time, familial ties, and the very _blood_," Draco paused, pressing his free hand to his chest, "that runs through our veins!"

Cedric looked blank. "What?"

"What the tremendous prat is _trying _to say," Harry said, nudging his friend, "is that Potters and Malfoys have always been enemies – during our time at Hogwarts, during your granddad's time, and a long, long time before that."

"But you're friends now," Cedric said, scratching his head. "I don't get it."

"Neither do we," Draco muttered, shaking his head. "And now, nephew, I suggest that you turn tail and make for the outdoors, because where your father and I are going is a highly dangerous place."

"Oh, boy!" Cedric said eagerly.

Harry chuckled. "Sorry, kid. You're a bit young."

"I'm five!" Cedric said, his smile slipping into a disappointed frown.

"When you're ten, I promise," Harry said. "Now go on, before your aunt or mum see us."

"And just where do you think you're slipping off to?"

"Or dear old Uncle Ron," Draco mumbled under his breath.

"Don't you mutter at me, Malfoy," Ron said sharply. "Are you trying to get Harry drunk?"

"Please, Ronald, think of the children!" Draco said, in an uncanny impersonation of Hermione, covering Cedric's ears. Harry bit down hard on his lip to keep from laughing outright at the look of indignation on Ron's face.

"Shut up, you great bastard!" he retorted. Harry was glad that Draco was still covering Cedric's ears. "Are you going off to get sloshed?"

"Possibly," Harry jumped in, before Draco could start again.

"And I wasn't invited?" Ron demanded, looking hurt.

"Oh, is that all?" Draco said, letting go of Cedric, who had been squirming for freedom. "Thought you were off to tell the women folk I was abducting Harry. Sure, Weasel, come on down!"

"Don't start, Ferret," Ron muttered, following Harry's slow progress down the stairs.

Ginny shook her head as Cedric reappeared by the now-empty chair, without either of his uncles or his father and took off across the yard to join Hayden, who was trying out his new training broom not far from the swing clearing.

"They're bloody well going to get sloshed," she said to no one in particular.

"Sloshed?" one of her other nephews asked, tilting his extremely red head on one side.

"Never you mind, Ian," Ginny said firmly. She turned to look at him. "Why is it you're standing around with the grownups? Why don't you go try Hayden's new broom?"

"Dunno," he said, looking mildly puzzled.

Ginny took a good look at him, suddenly suspicious. "Dorian, are you feeling well?"

"Actually, I feel a bit peculiar," the five-year-old admitted, blinking up at her.

"Merlin, he said 'peculiar'," Ginny said blankly to herself. She knelt down beside him and felt his face. "How _do_ you feel, darling?"

"A bit wobbly," Dorian said conversationally. Well, he didn't _sound_ drunk, but neither did his father until he was nearly blind with alcohol.

"What have you been drinking?" Ginny demanded gently.

"Well, I had some of that yummy punch over there," he said, waving vaguely at the large, silver tureen filled with amber liquid. "And then Uncle Draco saw me and told me to run along and not tell you I'd had it." Dorian frowned, looking first at the punch and then at his aunt. "Oops."

"Your uncle is going to be very sorry indeed when I see him next," Ginny murmured, more to herself than to her nephew. "Now come along," she said more loudly, steering him to Harry's vacated porch chair and sitting him firmly down. "You stay right here while I mix a quick little potion, all right, lovey?"

"That sounds reasonable," Dorian said, after a moment's heavy thought.

"Good lord," Ginny muttered, hurrying away into the house.

"Ian! Ian, what're you doing?"

Cedric came hurrying toward him, looking – well, Dorian supposed he looked confused. Dorian didn't see why. He also didn't see why his cousin was weaving about in that bizarre way. Why couldn't he walk properly?

"Oh, good joke, there you are!" Hayden said, bobbing beside them with his racing broom clutched protectively. "Come on, we're going to have a go in the big field."

"Aunt Gin said to stay right here, because she is unsure about my physical and mental condition," Dorian told them, wrinkling his brow.

"The what and the who?" Hayden said. "Ian, are you all right?"

"I think not," Dorian said slowly, hiccupping so abruptly that he jumped in surprise. His stomach had just done a most unpleasant flip-flop.

"Ced, there you are!" Tristan staggered up between Cedric and Hayden. "What're you all doing, then? Can I join?"

"Why do you have to do _everything_ with us?" Hayden said darkly, glaring at Tristan. "Don't you have _real_ friends?"

"Don't be mean!" Tristan said shrilly. Dorian wished to say, "Don't be loud!" but couldn't seem to form the words properly with his mouth.

"It was mean to kick me off the swuuu –" Hayden retorted. Dorian was fairly sure that he had misheard, because _swuuu _wasn't a proper word.

The next thing he knew, he was being force fed the most wretchedly disgusting liquid he had ever tasted. He gagged for a moment, but then heard his mother's voice, "Drink it, sweetheart. Go on, I promise it will make you feel much better."

Lulled by her coaxing tone, he swallowed, and opened eyes he hadn't realized were closed.

"What was that?" he demanded of his mother, who was crouching before him with Hayden, Tristan, and Cedric crowded around behind her.

"You had a spot too much punch," Hermione told him gently. "Do you feel all right?"

"Er – yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Dorian said, standing quickly up and embarrassed that everyone was staring at him. He did feel fine. He could remember feeling confused, dizzy, and kind of sick moments ago, but all of it was gone now. "Can I have a go on your new broom, Den?"

"You can go first, if you want," the blonde offered generously, handing it to him.

"Darling, I'm not sure," began Hermione uncertainly.

"I'm fine, Mum!" Dorian said, leading the others off the porch before she could decide to stop him.

"Why are we running?" panted Tristan. She sounded annoyed, but she was keeping better pace with him than either Cedric or Hayden.

"I don't want Mum to change her mind and make me sit in that chair for the rest of the night," Dorian huffed, leading the way toward the large pasture behind the barn mansion.

"Good thinking," Tristan nodded. She followed Dorian into the thick, short grass of the field and came to a halt beside him. "I can't wait to watch Uncle Draco and Dad and Mum flying tonight."

"_And_ my dad," Dorian said helpfully.

"And Uncle Ron," she agreed, smiling.

"I wish they'd let _us_ play," Hayden said grouchily, drawing to a stop beside Tristan.

"We're too _little_," Tristan said, rolling her eyes at him.

"You look like a troll when you do that," he told her.

"I do not! I don't look like a troll, do I, Ced?" Tristan cried, taking a swipe at Hayden's shoulder with her fist and missing.

"I don't think so," her twin answered. "Because that would mean that _I_ look like a troll, too, because everyone says we look the same."

"'Specially since all Tristy's hair was cut off," Hayden said, smirking at her from a safe distance.

Tristan glared at him, daring him to take a step closer. He didn't.

"Be quiet, Den," Cedric said quietly. "Tristy's my twin and I say she's pretty. Don't you think so, Ian?"

"Yes," Dorian said, without thinking.

"Dorian and Tristy sitting in a tree," chanted the irascible Hayden. "K-I-S-S –" he broke off as Dorian and Tristan dove at him. He swiped his broom back from Dorian and managed to mount before either of them could get to him. He shot off across the field, hooting with laughter.

"Why do you like him, _why_?" Tristan demanded, rounding on her twin and Dorian.

"Dunno," Cedric said, watching the blonde show off. Hayden _was_ quite a good flyer already, although everyone knew that Tristan was better. Her dad _was_ Harry Potter, after all . . .

"Den, come down and let me have a go," Dorian called up to him. "I promise I won't pummel you."

"What about Tristy?" the blonde called back, flying over their heads. The broom was only designed to fly ten feet off the ground.

"Oooh, someone's afraid of a _girl_," Cedric taunted, jumping up and down with excitement. He loved flying, although he wasn't as good as Tristan.

"I'm not!" Hayden cried indignantly, immediately diving for the ground. He hopped off and handed the broom to Dorian, who took off at once, whooping with glee as he shot toward the far end of the pasture.

"Ced, do you know where Daddy is?" Tristy asked, turning her back on Hayden. She didn't like him at all and only put up with him because her twin and Dorian, her best friends, liked him so much. And also, she and Hayden were god brother and sister, because Aunty Gin was Tristy's godmum.

"Uncle Draco and Uncle Ron and him went to the cellar to get a stiff drink, whatever that means," Cedric told her, his eyes still on the broom. "They said they were getting 'sloshed'."

"Dad has lots of old stuff in the cellar," Hayden commented distractedly. He glanced nervously up at Dorian. Tristan was sure that Hayden thought Dorian would break the broom if he stopped looking, even for a minute.

"Old stuff?" Cedric repeated.

"_I_ don't know," Hayden said impatiently. "Maybe they went to go look at Dad's old school books or something."

"Why would they do that?" Cedric said, at the same time that Tristy squealed, "Oooh, schoolbooks! I wonder if they'll give them to us."

"Don't be stupid," Hayden said, looking away from Dorian long enough to sneer. "They're really old books. We'll have to get new ones."

"Aunty Gin let me poke round in the attic once," Tristy said to Cedric, still ignoring Hayden. "I found loads of really interesting stuff. Old books – they didn't have pictures, so they weren't that interesting. And a rusty old cauldron. And a trunk full of old robes and things." Her eyes brightened. "Ced, we could go play Adventure up there."

"We could," Cedric said, taking his eyes off Dorian and looking interested. "And we could go on a quest."

"A quest?" Hayden said, his own eyes on Cedric. "What sort of quest?"

"We have to find . . ." Tristy trailed off, forgetting to ignore him. Then she grinned. "Our sacred quest is to find the dessert!"

"What? That's dumb. The dessert's in the kitchen!" Hayden said, looking disappointed.

"It isn't!" Tristy said indignantly. "I was in there when we first came and Aunty Gin said she was hiding the dessert because Uncle Draco and Uncle Ron _always_ get at it early."

"And I bet Dad would be our Advisor," Cedric said eagerly. "Or Uncle George!"

Adventure was a game their dad had made up for them on a cold, dismal day last winter, when they couldn't play outside and he wasn't feeling well. There was something hidden somewhere in the house that they'd never seen, he said, and they had to find it. They didn't know what it was, but Dad said that was the best part, finding it in the end. So he told them to put on some of his large work robes, arm themselves with their wands (trick wands from Uncles Fred and George), and made sure they had plenty of provisions (treats he found for them in the kitchen). Then they had to find the treasure, but beware of the curses and hexes of dangerous dark wizards (Dad would set up loads of jinxes all over the place and if they hit one, they had to stop and find him; he was the Advisor). The first time they had played, they had found a large chocolate cake Mum had been hiding for tea. They decided that because Dad said it was okay, they could eat it.

"But what about the hexes and jinxes and stuff?" asked Tristan doubtfully.

"There are adults _everywhere_!" Cedric said. "And Buckbeak. _Plenty_ of monsters and curses and so on. It would be a curse to be caught doing this by Aunt Gin or Aunt Mione, wouldn't it?"

"Caught doing what?" asked Dorian, landing gracelessly beside Hayden and stumbling into him.

Blaise felt rightfully suspicious when she noticed the twins and two of her nephews tearing toward the mansion and trying to look stealthy.

"I don't even want to know," Ginny murmured from her side. "So long as it's not alcohol-related, I can cope."

"That's all well and good, but supposing they stumble upon Harry or Draco while they're inside," Blaise said grimly.

"And Ron," Hermione said from behind Blaise. "Can't find him anywhere!"

"They think they're so clever each year – like we don't notice," Ginny muttered. "And yet, every year, they wind up drunk in the basement, and _someone _has to administer Sobering Elixirs."

"But no one makes them as well as you," Blaise said sweetly.

"Sod off. You're just too lazy," Ginny retorted. "Anyway, I planned ahead this year and made up the draught this morning."

"Thank goodness!" Hermione said, absently rubbing her belly. "Perhaps we should find them sooner rather than later. Ron may run off if he gets drunk enough." She grimaced, probably remembering the interesting episode during last year's gathering.

"Are _you_ feeling alright, Mione?" Ginny asked, watching her friend.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Hermione said, unconsciously mimicking her eldest son.

"Are you?" Ginny said, watching her friend carefully. "Only you've been rubbing your stomach all day."

"Oh, I've just been a bit queasy," Hermione shrugged, watching her two-year-old daughter being hefted into the air by Sirius. The old softy enjoyed being grandpa to every Weasley, Potter, and Malfoy (albeit Malfoys _only_ because they were Ginny's as well) born into the next generation.

"How long has this been going on?" Ginny asked shrewdly.

"Honestly, Gin, don't drill the poor girl," Blaise remonstrated.

"Force of habit," Ginny said dismissively, drawing her wand. "Just a muscle relaxant, Mione. Tell me if that stomach ache isn't gone by dessert and I'll have another look at you."

"Yes, Doctor." Hermione smiled ironically at her friend.

"Hey, what happened _last_ time you had stomach pains?" Ginny said pointedly.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh please, Merlin, not again!"

Blaise snorted with laughter. "Have fun, Granger. It's delightful not to be able to one-up you something, even if it is children."

Hermione scowled at her and then stalked away, muttering about Elisa being shaken to death by Sirius.

"Speaking of people who don't take care of themselves unless you strap them to a table," Ginny murmured. "How's Harry doing?"

There was a long pause. Blaise bit her lip, amusement at Hermione's expense vanishing. She knew it was best to keep Ginny informed, as she was Harry's Healer, but it was always hard for Blaise to admit to anyone, herself included, that something was wrong with him.

"He was especially tired today," she said at last. "I had hoped he would sleep until supper, but then Draco and Weasley got hold of him." She paused. "I hope they take it easy. They – well, and Harry – forget that Harry's not – well."

"I don't think they forget that Harry's not well," Ginny said gently. "I think they just don't want to see it. Ron and Draco both love Harry in their own, bizarre ways, and – none of us want this, Blaise," she finished, swallowing.

Blaise said nothing. She and Ginny had been friends long enough to understand each other and Ginny knew not to pity Blaise. Some days, Blaise didn't think she could bear to go home, and would turn up at Red's Park for an early tea and wind up sitting in the parlor with Ginny for countless, wordless minutes. Ginny never gave her those horrible pitying looks that she often got from Hermione. Ginny would rub her back, offer her a shoulder if she needed it, and force Blaise to tell her how Harry was doing, and if he was due for another checkup soon.

Sometimes, Blaise went to Pansy or Millie. They weren't pitying, either, though their solutions tended toward "girls' night out" ("night" being the middle of the afternoon – Blaise _did_ have two children who needed her in the evenings), which was definitely less productive.

Blaise never told Harry where she had been when she came in a bit later than usual, and she was never late enough for him to worry. Usually she would turn up right around suppertime, and if Harry could at all manage, he would fix something with the twins, who, for some reason, were always eager to help in the kitchen. Blaise also never let Harry see how upset she was or that she might have allowed Pansy and Millicent to get her terribly drunk (what a wonderful creation, the Sobering Elixir). She knew he would be upset and take the blame for her unhappiness.

The trouble was that Blaise wasn't unhappy – she was unsettled. She had been with Harry – first as his girlfriend, then simply his _friend_, then his wife – during the planning and execution of the events that had so weakened him. The unsettled feeling within her was, she knew, due in large part to tremendous guilt. It had been her idea. Yes, it probably saved countless lives and ended forever You-Know-Who's reign of terror, but it had also cost Harry a terrible price – his life.

She remembered the prophecy Dumbledore had revealed to Harry, which Harry had then told her:

_Neither can live while the other survives._

Blaise winced. Those words hurt – oh, how they hurt.

"Blaise?" Ginny said softly. Blaise jumped as she felt Ginny's hand against her shoulder, warmed by its time there. How long had Ginny been calling her name?

"What?" Blaise said shortly, blinking and dragging her gaze around the yard, looking for something – anything – for it to fix upon that wasn't the redhead.

"Sorry," Ginny said. "You just – you winced."

"I – I was thinking about the dreams, is all," Blaise lied flatly, watching determinedly as her twins, followed by Ian and Hayden, disappeared around the side of the barn mansion with a distinct lack of the stealth they were obviously striving for.

"Potent, bizarre, and about once a year? Yep, I know 'em," Ginny said with a wry smile. Blaise doubted her friend believed that the dreams were what had been on her mind, but it was nice of Ginny to pretend.

"I mean, the last one was in mid April, but every so often it pops into my head," Blaise said, resolutely continuing with this topic of conversation.

"Remembering them?" Ginny said with a frown. "Do you often?"

"Oh, yeah," Blaise said. She smirked. "Maybe I'm special."

"Maybe," Ginny said, her tone blatantly skeptical. Her frown deepened. "I know I don't remember mine, except that you and Harry and Draco are always there. I probably wouldn't remember, but –"

"Every year, same time," Blaise finished. "It's really lucky you started a dream journal or we'd never have known we were all having this problem."

"Well, Mum said she thought it would help me deal with nightmares I still get about the war," Ginny said. "I knew Harry was doing it, because Mum said she recommended it to him, too, and Ron mentioned him having it when he came round the Burrow once. He got into it, thinking it was some journal and said he wished he hadn't."

Blaise nodded, her mind drifting back to Harry of its own accord. She fought it, but no. "Harry has always had horrific nightmares."

"I think we all did, after the war," Ginny murmured. She glanced at Blaise, cleared her throat, and said, "Anyway, you're the only one who really remembers the dreams. Even Draco and I can't seem to remember long enough to write them down. I mean, Draco told me once that he only just gets the four of us."

Blaise shook her head. "Not much more, actually. I get flashes of things. Red's Park, sometimes. Hogwarts. Snape in the headmaster's office. Teenagers who look like us, but . . . you know, different."

"Like the kids when they're older?" Ginny offered.

"Maybe," Blaise said. "I know I get older versions of the three of you. Not much older – maybe ten or a dozen years. But I'm never there."

"Maybe it's like one of those dreams where you're watching, bird's eye," Ginny suggested.

"I don't think so," Blaise said. "I don't think I'm there. At least, not the older version of me. The younger certainly pops up enough."

Ginny was thoughtful for a moment.

"I don't remember much," she said slowly, "but – you know, Blaise. It's creepy."

Blaise did know. Whether they remembered the dreams or not, the _impression_ of each dream was always there. They all knew they were having the dreams, and every dream felt like a missing day, rather than a figment the subconscious.

"We talk about this all the time," Blaise said quietly. "And we _could_ have the answers, if we wanted them."

"You know that even if we _could _get into the Department of Mysteries, the four of us aren't allowed to see – well, whatever Dumbledore took from us in his office that night." Ginny's eyes were troubled.

Blaise could relate. That fateful night during their seventh year, Harry had been expelled. Granted, his expulsion had been to some purpose – Harry remained convinced that Dumbledore had always intended to send him off to Order HQ early, in order to train. Ginny and Blaise didn't buy that, and Blaise doubted if Harry really did, either. He was just fishing for an explanation for their expulsion, since none of them could remember why it had happened; any more than they could remember how or why they were suddenly so fond of each other; any more than they could understand the sudden, heated relationship that seemed to have sprung up between Blaise and Harry literally over night; any more than they could explain Harry and Draco's sudden truce.

The night after their strange meeting in Dumbledore's office, he had called them back and done something to their memories. No, perhaps that was not strictly true. He had taken Pensieve impressions from all four of them in the presence of two Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries.

"You will remember this night," he had said. "But memories of what has brought you to this moment will begin to fade over time. They must never, however, be forgotten. To that end, they shall remained locked away in the Department of Mysteries, so that the knowledge of what you have done shall never be lost. You four, however, will never be allowed to see them, under any circumstances. The consequences of your knowledge are unknowable to anyone, but would probably be too terrible to imagine."

And so, they would never know. Draco had toyed with the idea of becoming an Unspeakable, just to see if he could get access to the Pensieve. But he had never pursued this beyond occasional scheming phases when he was tired or wound up on Turkish coffee.

Whatever had happened between them would remain hidden forever, only revealed during dreams that they had only recently discovered they were all having. All four of them felt the realness of the dreams, but only Blaise retained any sort of impression. She had a feeling that she wasn't _supposed_ to know. So rare was it for her _not_ feel any sort of curiosity at a puzzle that she was convinced that it was not intended she ever discover the secret behind the dreams, the Pensieve records, or war's end between Potter and Malfoy.

The feeling of discordance between the reality of the dreams, and yet a feeling of foreignness, suggested to Blaise and Draco, who had spent one solid afternoon over tea in pure conjecture, that even if they were dreaming about some experience the four of them had had together, it _couldn't_ exist in their timeline now. Draco had described the feeling as _displacement_.

"I feel like whatever I'm dreaming might be real, if it fit into the timeline," he had told Blaise pensively. "But for some reason, it doesn't."

"I've heard theories about the timeline being like a massive tree," Blaise had remembered aloud. "The trunk is the present, but it only goes so high until it splits into uncountable branches. Each branch is a possible future, but in the end, only the thickest, strongest branch will become part of the trunk as it grows, or the present. Every choice ever made contributes to the strength of the believability of a certain branch, and yet every choice creates a new, tiny, possibility branch somewhere in the tree."

"Nice theory, anyway," Draco had snorted.

Blaise was convinced after their conversation that they had been messing with time somehow. She wasn't sure how, but she was sure that that was why they weren't to know what they had done; such knowledge could alter the natural progression of events by influencing their decisions with prior knowledge.

"I'm giving myself a headache," Blaise muttered aloud.

Ginny chuckled. "Let it go. We'll never know, and what does it matter, really?"

"That's awfully un-Gryffindor of you," Blaise quipped.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Ginny pointed out as she watched Draco's cat, El Diablo, tear across the lawn in pursuit of something small and furry. She winced as El Diablo pounced. "I hope that's not Derek's rat. He'll be so upset."

"Shall we find the drunks?" Blaise suggested, glad to let their conversation go for now.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "I'll fetch the Sobering Elixir and meet you by the cellar stairs."

"Bring Granger with you," Blaise called after her. "I'd love to see Weasley get hit about the ears."

Ginny snorted at her friend as she stalked away across the lawn and made for her lab, where she kept her healing potion supplies. It was in a side passage off of the front hall. Ginny unlocked the numerous wards guarding it with her wand and, checking to make sure that none of her nieces, nephews, or pets were about, slipped through the door and closed it quickly behind her. It was the work of a moment to find the Sobering Elixir and she exited and went to meet Blaise and Hermione.

The task of administering the elixir and scolding all round was always rather satisfying, Ginny thought, as Draco followed her sulkily up the steps of the cellar.

"Honestly, Ginevra, we do this every year," he grumbled.

"And every year, I have to find you, sober you up, and knock you about a bit for being a dreadful host!" Ginny said sharply. "And are you aware that I had to give a dose of Sobering Elixir to your _nephew_?"

"Really? Which one?" Ron asked eagerly, then winced when Hermione punched him sharply in the arm.

"_Your_ son, actually," the brunette told him pointedly.

"_What_? Malfoy, you wretched ferret!"

"Oh, help!" Draco took off, Ron hot on his heals. "Potter, _save me_," Draco's voice echoed down the long hall.

"Why does he assume I'm the one to ask for help?" Harry said, shaking his head. "After all that time he spent giving me hell for being 'the hero' in school. And now, suddenly, it's, 'Ooh, Harry, protector of life, _save me from your best friend_!'"

Ginny grinned, watching Blaise slide an arm around him and lean into him. She was offering him support if he needed it, Ginny knew, without forcing him to accept it.

He _did _look pretty tired. She made a note to give him some more Restorative Potion before the Quidditch match that evening.

The scene that met them when they gained the front porch again was one of, if possible, increased chaos. One moment, Draco was dodging in and out of relatives, Ron hot on his tail, and the next moment the blonde came to an abrupt halt, causing Ron to collide with him and both to go down in a tangle.

From somewhere within the mess of limbs came a keening cry of, "My _lawn_! _Look_ at it! Oh, it's like a gaping _maw_! Black, I'm doing to _kill_ you!"

"Not if Ron kills _you_ first," Sirius called back cheerfully, keeping well back from the infuriated blonde.

"Don't get our hopes up," Fred said ruefully.

"Ron – Ron, get off him," Ginny said with a sigh that hid a small smile, going to remove her brother from her husband. "Draco, settle down. It's not that bad."

"Not that _bad_?" Draco stormed, glaring at Sirius around Ginny's shoulder. "Ginevra – he was probably nearing the earth's core when someone finally moved him."

"Don't exaggerate," Ginny said, smoothing her hand over his wrinkled shirt and settling his hair while the rest of the family, seeing that disaster had been disappointingly averted for the time being, returned to their previous employments around the lawn.

"I don't exaggerate," Draco muttered indignantly, though he did nothing to remove her hands from where they had settled on his shirt. His eyes softened almost imperceptibly as they settled on her face with that steady, intense, almost unreadable expression that had unnerved her in former days when it was proper to torment the one you loved.

Ginny kept a smile to herself. Not that those days were gone, by any stretch.

"You wouldn't be smirking at me, would you, darling?" Draco said shrewdly, his hands on her waist giving her a small shake.

"Never, upon my honor," Ginny said, her crooked smile impossible to conceal.

"That's too bad," he murmured, leaning forward and resting his forehead against hers. "I was looking forward to wiping it off your face."

"How?" Ginny whispered, sidling closer and tightening her arms.

"By wiping the pitch with you this evening, of course," he said against her lips before pulling away and swaggering off across the lawn.

_Tease_! Ginny thought indignantly, watching him go with no little frustration.

Draco, strutting his high and mighty Malfoy way across the lawn, smiled and cracked his knuckles in satisfaction. Though he would have been loathed to admit it to anyone, he delighted in one-upping his wife whenever possible.

"Oy, Malfoy!"

Draco pursed his lips and considered ignoring his brother-in-law. He also considered that he enjoyed living and turned to face one of the many redheaded nuisances crowding up his immaculate lawn.

"Weasley," he said stiffly.

"You can't call me 'Weasley'," Charlie said, grinning wolfishly at him. "How many of us are there here? You're bound to confuse someone."

"Entertainment value," Draco said shortly.

"You really want the attention of twenty Weasleys at once? Are you sure that's safe for you?" Charlie countered, folding his thick arms across his chest. Though not a favorite of Draco's in any way, Charlie was preternaturally good-natured and Draco feared him least (apart from Bill) of all Ginny's brothers.

"You can't hurt me, or your sister hurts you," he said smugly. "What is it you want?"

Charlie's grin broadened.

"I reckon it's Quidditch time," the redhead said.

Draco glanced at his pocket watch.

"You're probably right," he agreed. He threw a glance around the yard, then snorted. "Should probably go find my son and Potter's impossible children. Gah!"

He stalked away to the tuneful laugh of Charlie, the preternaturally good-natured, and tried to think where _he_ would go if he were his son or Potter's son or Ron Weasley's son.

"Dessert," he muttered, stomping up the porch steps.

"I thought dessert came after Quidditch, Malfoy."

Draco glanced down in surprising and noted that he had stomped right passed Potter, who was sitting on the bottom step with his head tipped back and eyes just cracked open to stare across the lawn.

"No, no," Draco said impatiently. "I was just telling Weasl – _Charlie_ – that I have to go dig up the twins and Hayden and Ian before we start –"

"_Quidditch match_!" Charlie's voice boomed across the lawn.

The Weasleys, Potters, Blacks (plural, if one counted Buckbeak), and Malfoys didn't need telling twice. There was a general stampede as everyone rushed for either the field or their broom and tried not to trample each other in their haste.

"Barbarians," Draco said in disgust.

"Enthusiasts," Harry argued quietly. He didn't move to join the mass exodus, but sat watching from his step with a dark, brooding look that had formerly annoyed Draco. Now, it made him simultaneously irritable and sad. Once upon a time, Harry Potter would have been leading that stampede.

"Well? Aren't you going?" he said impatiently.

"Be along in a minute," Harry told him, closing his eyes and heaving a sigh. He cracked one a moment later and glanced at Draco. "Hey, you go out and get teams and the like and I'll go hunt down the hellions. I reckon they're into the dessert or something."

Draco stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge suggestion.

"You _are_ playing tonight." Harry had _never_ not played. Sure, replacements were often brought on about halfway through, but Harry always played.

"I'll be there for the victory lap," he said, his crooked smile rather bitter. "Honestly, Malfoy . . ." He paused, shaking his head with a somewhat deadened look. "A few years ago, I'd've hated for you to be the one to see me this way."

"What way?" Draco demanded, stubbornly refusing to understand his friend – he didn't want to. "Stop blathering and get out to the field, Potter."

"Can't," Harry said, not looking angry as Draco might have expected but quiet and distant. "You know I can't anymore. It's – it's all getting a bit much for me." He sighed again before getting ponderously to his feet. "Go on, you're the host. I'll dig up the twins and Den and Ian." He gave Draco's shoulder a shove as he passed. "Lighten up, Malfoy."

"Bite me, Potter."

"That's better." With a furtive grin, Harry disappeared into the barn-mansion, leaving Draco staring dully after him.

"Draco."

Slowly, he turned his head to meet the over-bright eyes of his wife. She bit her lip, a tear dribbling down her freckled cheek and dropping off the end of her chin. Without a word, she stepped into his arms, shaking slightly and gripping the fabric of his shirt in tight fists.

"How's he doing, Gin?" Draco asked unwillingly.

She shook her head against his shoulder, sending red hair fluttering against his cheek. She didn't speak for a moment. Then she pulled back enough to look up into his face.

"Not well," she said simply, her voice husky. She shook her head again and quickly brushed the tears from her cheeks. "But tonight isn't the night for such thoughts."

"He can't play anymore," Draco muttered, more to himself than to her. "Playing was his favorite thing in the world."

"He's got a couple of laps in him tonight," Ginny insisted. "And you know he's always loved to watch Charlie fly."

"It's unfair," Draco grumbled, refusing to look her in the eye and choosing instead to glare mutinously at the white porch step where Harry had been sitting moments before.

"Of course it is," Ginny said. She took his chin in her hand and tugged until his eyes met hers. He tried to hide the storm of unacknowledged emotion in them, but doubted he would be terribly successful under Ginny's scrutiny. "It's unfair to Blaise and the twins. It's unfair to his best friends, to his godfather, to you and I. But, Draco . . ." She winced, more tears pooling in her eyes. "He hates pity, Draco. He needs to believe – he needs _us _to believe – that he's still got time and strength. I think . . ." She paused again, swallowing hard. "I think he's trying to be ready when – when the time comes. For his sake, we need to be ready, too."

Draco bit his lip hard, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his forehead to Ginny's. Until he had met Harry – _really_ met him for the first time on the Hogwarts Express – he had never known a strong emotion. At that time and all throughout their days at Hogwarts, it had been a steady, boiling anger. Strangely enough, he had never hated Harry. Loathed, perhaps, and resent him, but never hated. But the emotions he had always felt toward Harry had been deeper than he had ever felt toward anyone else.

It therefore followed that when that boiling fury had slowly transformed itself into unwilling, but powerful respect, and the respect had reinvented itself and become genuine friendship it had been just as powerful, just as deep. As with the rivalry relationship he had had with Harry, their friendship was something that both worked to cultivate, to nurture, and to understand. Draco still wasn't sure he understood it, but he knew he would be hard-pressed to live without it.

For some reason, his wife seemed to know all this without being told. But then, she probably understood friendship far better than Draco. During that moment, while they held each other on the porch, Ginny didn't speak. She didn't try to console him or offer empty words of comfort. Instead, as she had long ago on another occasion that he couldn't quite remember, she was simply there with him, allowing him to say, do, or feel whatever he liked without intrusion.

She simply let him know she was there.

A long moment later, Draco took a breath and pulled back a bit.

"All right?" Ginny said. Her eyes were a bit red, but her tears had dried.

"All right," he agreed, leaning forward to capture her lips in a brief kiss. "Potter went to find the runts. Told me to go 'play host'." He snorted. "He knows I hate it. He does it to torment me."

"I'm sure," Ginny said. "Come on, you brilliant host you, let's go sort out teams."

They trooped back down the steps and went around behind the barn-mansion, where the great open field that always served as a pitch on these occasions was surrounded by family and friends, all talking and laughing and waiting eagerly for their favorite part of the annual family gatherings.

"'Bout time, Malfoy, we were going to do teams without you," Ron called over the noise.

"Just can't bear to be separated from me for a minute, can you, _Weasley_?" Draco sneered, striding forward to take charge. He knew it made Ron upset that he had to accept the direction of a Malfoy for an evening, but Hermione and his sister kept him in line on these occasions and the redhead had learned to yield to the inevitable.

"Have you seen Harry, Draco?" Hermione asked anxiously. Her use of his first name always annoyed Draco, who would gladly have continued to call her Granger till the end of their days, but Hermione insisted that as in-laws (however unwilling) it was ridiculous to be on a last-name basis.

"I'm here, and I have a present for you, Mrs. Weasley," came Harry's voice, just audible over the noise.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Hermione said quietly as he drew level. "I'll never be 'Mrs. Weasley'." She nodded toward Molly Weasley, who was holding a baby, a toddler, and someone's Weasley sweater.

"Sure you will," Harry said amiably. "I mean, how many children do you have now? You'll have caught up with 'the real' Mrs. Weasley in no time."

Hermione nudged his shoulder. "Shut up, Harry." She was quiet for a moment, then turned to eye him critically. "How are you feeling?"

Harry smiled slightly, looking around at his friends and family. He was about to answer when he felt a tug on his sleeve.

"Daddy?"

Tristy stared up at him with wide, very familiar green eyes.

"Yeah, Tris?"

"Pick me up," was the surprising order.

Harry chuckled as he bent to lift her into his arms.

"Tris, stop bothering Daddy," Blaise said, appearing suddenly beside Harry. "How's he to fly while he's holding you?"

"He's the great Harry Potter," Draco reminded her from Hermione's other side, huffing slightly and hefting his son into a more comfortable position on his shoulders. "He could probably fly carrying _me _and still beat the other Seeker to the Snitch."

"Although why _anyone_ would want to carry you," Ginny put in, pulling Hayden off his shoulders to a protesting exclamation of, "_Mum_! Geroff!"

Harry glanced around at his wife, then at Ginny and Draco who stood opposite, then at Ron who was loudly calling after Draco to "get your arse over here!" (for which expression he was hit in the face by a Weasley sweater formerly held by his mother), then at his godfather who was somehow carrying three of Harry's nieces, then to the rest of the family, who looked anything but peaceful and anything but unhappy.

He smiled at Hermione.

"I'm feeling great."

P)vs(M 

THE END!

P)vs(M 


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